Watership Down Beyond The New World
by Sharks Potter
Summary: In 2012, Jamie McEwen went in search of his missing father. His search takes him on an adventure in a future world of giant talking rabbits... Meanwhile, four years after the Battle of Efrafa, Alan and the rabbits of Watership Down receive a strange visitor, encounter an old foe, new enemies, and embark on a grand adventure, which will determine the future of their world...
1. Chapter 1 Funeral for A Brother

**Disclaimer: **With the exception of the human characters, I do not own any of the characters from _Watership_ _Down_ and _Tales from_ _Watership_ _Down_, or their screen adaptations, which are the property of Richard Adams and Martin Rosen. Any similarity to anyone, alive or dead, is purely coincidental and no absolutely profit is intended from this work. Rated PG for some violence in later chapters.

**Notice to all readers: **This is a sequel to _Watership Down the New World_ (also found in my profile). If you haven't read that story already, stop reading now or you will be very confused!

**January 15****th**** 2011**

Although the winter snow still had several weeks to melt, the sky was clear and bright on that day, in Highgate Cemetery in London. A procession marched towards the latest grave dug in the Johnson family plot in the heart of the ancient graveyard. Today was the funeral of a Royal Navy hero who had recently perished at sea, whilst doing his duty in the midst of the war that had ravaged the world.

The Third World War, as the latest conflict between the East and West had been named, had lasted three long years. Bloodshed and destruction had been high on both sides; but not so high as the loss of life in the Battle of the South China Sea; destroyers, aircraft carriers, resupply convoys, submarines, and aircraft alike now lay wrecked on the bottom of the Pacific, entombing their crews that had gone down with them.

Among the many vessels lost was the _HMS Shardik_, one of the finest submarines in the Royal Navy, commandeered by Captain Royce Johnson on his first command. Like all war heroes, Royce and his crew had met with a bad end after running foul of a Chinese destroyer, following an engine failure that had left them sitting ducks, drifting without power, within the enemy lines. Such was written in the Admiral's letter received by Royce's only living relative, along with the posthumously awarded Victoria Cross: his estranged younger brother, Dr Alan Johnson.

Since childhood, the two brothers had had a bitter feud, eventually up to the point that they remained relatives in name only. In contrast to his brother, Royce had never married or started a family; instead, he had found his call in the Royal Navy, as Chief of Boat, executive officer and finally Captain. Having circumnavigated the globe several times throughout his career on the high seas, Royce was nicknamed 'Her Majesty's Sea Wolf' by his fellow officers.

Unfortunately, like all sea wolves before him, he had eventually found his match in the enemy. The _HMS Shardik_ was registered as 'lost with all hands', the full details of its final mission classified, and the wreck never found. For his contribution to the Royal Navy, Royce's superiors had given him a fine funeral and, as per his wishes, his empty coffin would be buried alongside his parents in the family plot.

A fancy copper casket, wrapped in the British flag and containing Royce's Cross, as well as several of his prized possessions, but not his body, was lowered into the ground by several marines, while A small group of attendees watched in silence, their hands crossed in respect. Despite Royce's reputation, the number of his funeral attendees was rather small: several fellow officers, his direct superior and close friend Dr Clint Van Owen, a military scientist and defence contractor specialising in bio weaponry, Father Herbert Campbell, a priest and former head of the orphanage where Royce had grown up, and finally Royce's estranged brother Alan, accompanied by his wife and daughter. None of the attendees acknowledged the presence of yet another attendee who stood apart from the others, surveying the funeral from afar.

While a priest conducted the ceremony, only one person wasn't paying attention to the proceedings: Alan's six-year-old daughter Lucy, bored silly, had wondered off, looking at all the different tombstones and monuments. As she run around a tombstone, chasing a rabbit, she run straight into the unidentified spectator, knocking her off her feet. The stranger had the wind knocked out of him for an instant, caught by surprise, before helping her up.

"Watch it, little miss! Are you all right? What's your name?" Lucy looked a little taken aback at being spoken to by a stranger, yet her confidence returned by his gentle nature, as she replied, "Yes, thank you, mister. My name is Lucy, Lucy Johnson. Mummy and Daddy have come to say goodbye to my Uncle Royce. They said he is going to Heaven to meet Grandma and Grandpa…"

"I see," replied the stranger, smiling at her childish innocence, "Maybe we should get you back to your parents?" As if on queue, a feminine voice called from the direction of the crowd. "Lucy! Lucy, where are you, dear?" The stranger turned and saw a red-haired woman approaching, looking concerned, "There you are! How many times have I told you not to wonder off alone…Oh," she said, as she caught sight of the stranger holding her daughter's hand, "I am ever so sorry, she is always curious…"

"That's quite all right, Mrs…" replied the stranger curtly, pulling his cap low as if to hide his face, "I am sorry, what's your name, ma'am?"

"Johnson, Mary Johnson," the woman replied politely, shaking hands with the stranger who, strangely enough, did not introduce himself in return, "Did you know my brother-in-law?"

"I guess you could say that, Mrs Johnson," replied the stranger softly, "I am sorry if I'm intruding. I just wanted to pay my last respects to Royce. I'll be on my way soon…"

"Would you like to talk to my husband?" offered Mary, "The death of his brother has hit him rather bad; I am sure he'd appreciate talking to someone that had been close to him…" The stranger hesitated for a moment, as if considering the offer. But as he caught sight of Alan thanking Dr Van Owen, who had taken the liberty of making the funeral arrangements for his brother, his face formed into a slight frown and he shook his head.

"I am sorry Mrs Johnson but I was only an old acquaintance of Royce's; it would be inappropriate for me to impose like that. And I really must get going…"

"Are you sure you're feeling all right, sir?" persisted Mary, looking curiously at the stranger. There was something very peculiar about his attitude, despite his good manners, and even with his cap and sunglasses obscuring his face, Mary could have sworn there was something oddly familiar about him... However, she shrugged it off.

"Well then, goodbye sir." She turned to leave, clutching her daughter's hand, when the stranger suddenly called her back, "Wait, Mrs Johnson, do you happen to know what has become of Royce's old dog, Rowf?"

"That old rottweiler?" asked Mary, "I think Royce's boss has taken him in temporarily until they can find a new home for him. My husband suggested we take him in, but we live in a flat without a garden, and we both work long hours. It would be impossible…" But the stranger looked pleased.

"If it's all right, I'll send someone from Royce's old headquarters to pick him up tomorrow. I can manage a dog just fine." Mary smiled.

"I am sure Dr Van Owen won't have any objection. Besides, I'd hate to see it go to the pound. I'll tell him." The man nodded in gratitude and as Mary turned to leave again, she heard the man say, "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Mary. Please send your husband my condolences for Royce." Giving Lucy a playful wink, which she returned with a wink of her own, the stranger turned to leave, pausing for a moment at the gate of the cemetery, to cast one last glance at the Johnson family standing around the now filled grave of Royce Johnson.

"Goodbye Alan…"

Mary and Lucy made their way back to Alan, who was conversing with his old mentor, Father Herbert. When Alan and Royce had lived at his orphanage as children, the priest and retired soldier had taken a great interest in the two brothers, treating Alan almost like a son, and to a lesser extent, Royce, trying unsuccessfully to mend the breach which had been rapidly growing between them after their mother had died giving birth to her youngest son. As a result of that tragedy, Royce had always despised his brother, eventually forcing them to part ways forever.

Although Alan had secretly always hoped for a chance to make amends with his older brother someday, just like Father Herbert had wanted, unfortunately that notion was now lost with Royce's death. Lucy tugged on her mother's arm, "Mummy, who was that man?"

"I have no idea sweetheart. No idea at all…"

Although Mary was certain that that this mysterious stranger was somehow not a complete stranger to her, and maybe not to her husband either, she never lived long enough to find out. Only two months after Royce's funeral, it made the headlines that she and her daughter had been brutally slain by an unknown killer during a family daytrip to Kingsclere. A year later, the incident was on the headlines again, when it came out that a terrorist faction had been targeting her husband, who was also killed attempting to unravel the plot, becoming a posthumous hero just like his brother.

Royce's superior Dr Van Owen mysteriously disappeared only two days after the funeral. His house was found burned to the ground and all his private work lost, but no traces of his body. Whether he had been kidnapped and murdered by some rival scientist, or committed suicide because his company was revealed to be filing was bankruptcy, remained a mystery for years until it was forgotten altogether when civilisation was destroyed by the asteroid apocalypse of 2029. Royce's grave was left forgotten for centuries, with not a living soul aware of the terrible secret that lay tucked beneath the ground, waiting to be discovered someday…

**Author's note:** My beloved readers, I am back! Behold the sequel to _Watership Down The New World_, just like I promised I would write. As in the previous story, I will be writing many chapters that will end in cliffhangers or unanswered questions, which will be answered in due course. As I requested before, good reviews will speed up my rate of updating, so PLEASE TAKE A FEW MOMENTS TO REVIEW! Reviews are inspiration and will help improve the story greatly. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2 Flight 571

**January 5****th**** 2013, London**

The crowded terminal at Heathrow Airport was buzzing with the voices of waiting passengers, mostly holidaymakers returning home, following the end of the Christmas holidays. Among them walked a burly, square-jawed man in his mid-forties, wearing an _Oceanic Airlines_ pilot's uniform, making his way towards the pilots' lounge.

Captain Paul Conandale had been in aviation for nearly twenty years. A distinguished flight veteran and former fighter pilot in the Royal Air Forces, Paul was a flyboy at heart. Unmarried, yet occasionally dating the stewardesses he flew with, his home were the airports of all the different countries he flew to: Paris, Rome, Athens, Cairo, New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Buenos Aires, Sydney, Tokyo, Beijing, Johannesburg, and every other major city around the globe were regularly visited by Paul. Following each long flight, when a flight crew would get a 48-hour liberty pass to cure jetlag, he and his date would go sightseeing, literally turning his career into a life-long vacation of sorts. The perfect life for an airline pilot.

Tonight was an evening like any other; a transatlantic flight from Heathrow London to LaGuardia New York, departing at midnight; a plane full of Christmas holidaymakers, mostly collage students, returning to their overseas universities in the States for the new term. As he walked along the balcony overlooking the concourse, he glanced over the rail at his passengers downstairs; some one hundred people of different sex, age and nationality, laden down with Christmas presents and shopping, sat in the plastic chairs below, chatting and enjoying hot snacks from the cafeteria, awaiting the boarding announcement.

_Looks like they've been warned of Oceanic's special pepper steak dinner_, Paul thought in amusement. Picking up a copy of the _Evening Chronicle_ from a nearby newspaper stand, he glanced at the front page and frowned. It was again the same ridiculous story that had made the headlines of all major newspapers throughout the country for the past week:

PSYCHOTIC SCIENTIST DIES IN SUICIDE PLANE CRASH

Regularly updated every day for the past few days, as more hazy information leaked out to the Press, the story recited the details of Dr Alan Johnson's tragedy a couple of years back, when his wife and daughter had been brutally slain in a shoot-out, causing the professor to withdraw into solitude, and eventually succumbing to mental breakdown. Then, just last week, whilst on a flying trip over the forbidden New Forest National Park with a friend, their plane had vanished without a trace, followed shortly thereafter by a rescue chopper that had gone combing the area for them.

In tonight's release however, there was an interesting addition to the story: Dr Johnson's housekeeper had been found brutally murdered in her home, with evidence indicating Johnson as the prime suspect. Latest rumours speculated that the disappearance had been a suicide crash orchestrated by the mentally disturbed Dr Johnson himself, to escape justice, taking the pilot and his colleague, Dr Shaw, to the grave with him. The missing Royal Air Force chopper had been ruled out as a coincidental accident, unrelated to Johnson's case.

_Bureaucrats and politicians…_thought Paul, _Boobies the lot of them…_ Although he could buy this Dr Johnson snapping and murdering his housekeeper out of grief, and then killing himself, being an experienced pilot, Paul knew something more about aircraft than the Press did: an aircraft going down _over land_ couldn't just vanish without a trace. And then, there was also the mystery of the missing chopper; if Johnson had committed suicide by crashing his plane in the heart of New Forest, then how could the chopper, piloted by an experienced Royal Air Force squadron, vanish under _exactly_ the same circumstances, with no apparent cause? It just didn't add up in the pilot's mind.

As far as Paul was concerned, this Johnson fellow was dead; and mostly likely he had been a deranged psychopath and a killer, given his charming backstory. Whatever it was, it was none of his concern. But there was still this missing piece to the puzzle that he couldn't quite figure out… But what could it be?

Glancing at his watch, he frowned at the time. _Drat, time to get cracking_. Tucking away his paper, he grabbed his suitcase and hurried towards the pilots' lounge, to meet the rest of his flight crew and maybe have a large, caffeine-rich cappuccino before boarding. This was going to be a long night - unbeknownst to him, the longest of his life.

Lost in his thoughts over the Johnson mystery, he wasn't looking where he was going, as he walked straight into a scrawny boy of about twenty who had just come through the security check. With a loud clutter, the boy's unpacked books and laptop, which he had been trying to stuff back into his rucksack, fell to the floor. Cursing himself for not looking where he was going, Paul hastily knelt down to help the boy retrieve his belongings, muttering his apologies.

"Oh, terribly sorry, lad. My fault. Are you lost?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you tell me where Gate A13 is, please?" asked the boy in a clear American accent, showing him his boarding pass. Paul chuckled under his breath; he was accustomed to meeting foreign passengers unable to navigate London's largest airport, a place he knew like the palm of his hand.

"It looks like you're on my flight tonight young man," he said, reading the flight number on the ticket, "Just follow the concourse down that way, then turn left and down the escalators; your gate is the forth on your right."

"Gee, thanks…Captain, isn't?" asked the boy, recognising the gold stripes on Paul's uniform. The man smiled, proud of having his title recognised, "Yes, Captain Paul Conandale, _of Oceanic Airlines_," he said, shaking hands with the boy. Although dressed in baggy clothes, with a long mouse-like nose and a ridiculous spiky haircut, Paul could tell the boy had some serious intelligence to make up for his off-putting appearance, "I take it you're a student here… – sorry, didn't catch your name, son…?"

"Ratty Marcus," said the boy, "I am a biology student at the Royal University of London…or _was_…" His face fell at his own words, remembering that he had only just been suspended, following an incident of plagiarism in his dissertation. In contrast to his former fellow students currently preparing for the start of the new term, Ratty was returning home a failure, his future ruined. But that was none of Paul's business.

"Well, good for you, young man. By the way, did you know a certain Professor Johnson there?" Paul asked, remembering the article mentioning that Dr Johnson had been an associate professor at Ratty's old university. Ratty nodded, his face brightening.

"Of course, he was my tutor; a bit of an oddball, that guy, but he taught us real well. His successor certainly pales in comparison…" Indeed, Dr Johnson had been one of only a few of his former professors to appreciate his academic skills, the rest of the staff having often regarded him as an average student, not worth their time. The resignation, followed by the 'suicide', of his favourite former professor now only added to his misery, and he decided to cut the chitchat short, "Anyway, I better get going. Nice to meet you, Captain."

"Enjoy your flight, young Mr Marcus."

Paul picked up his own luggage and hurried downstairs to the pilot's lounge. His co-pilot, Bob Chambers, a bespectacled balding man of around thirty, due to be promoted to Captain after this flight, was expecting him. Although a fine co-pilot, the younger man looked rather uneasy in the veteran's presence, not unlike the shy, recently hired stewardesses he sat with, nervous about the upcoming evaluation of his flying skills, which would determine whether or not he would be wearing his forth strip on the return flight next week. Waiting with him were their three-person cabin crew, as well as Officer John Harris, a stern-faced air marshal, who'd be accompanying the flight.

Walking up to the minibar for a quick coffee, Paul caught sight of one particular face he had been eager to see since leaving his hotel that evening, sitting at a nearby table: Constance Campbell, the chief stewardess, who also worked for the same airline. Like Paul, the young brunette, ten years Paul's junior, was a lady of her field, patient and kind to everyone around her, whether passenger or crew, embodying the very soul of the flight crew. In contrast to other stewardesses he usually dated during his overseas leaves, which often turned out to be a-one-time-date only, Constance had quickly become the apple of Paul's eye, and, although they were technically just friends, he was secretly hoping for a chance to propose to her someday.

Walking up behind her, he gently tapped her on the shoulder. The young stewardess, startled, spun round in surprise but then smiled when she saw who it was, "Oh, hallo, Paul. Goodness, you gave me quite a turn! So how was your weekend?"

"As usual, looking forward to sprout my wings again, lassie," he said, taking a seat beside her, "How about you?"

"Went to see my Uncle Herbert at the nursing home. He is quite distraught from the news about Alan…" Paul raised his eyebrows, _Bloody hell, is this Johnson fellow a posthumous celebrity or something?_ he thought, "Did you know him?"

"He and his brother lived at my uncle's orphanage many years ago," said Constance, wiping away a tear, "I used to play with him and his gang whenever he brought them over to our home on weekends or during the holidays. After he left, we lost touch. The last time I ever saw him was at his brother's funeral a couple of years ago, where I met his wife and daughter… Such a tragedy…"

"You believe all those stories then?" asked Paul without thinking, "I mean, that stuff about him being barmy and all?" He regretted asking that question before the words had even passed his lips, as he saw Constance's face curl into a reproachful frown.

"Paul, I don't know what _you_ think of Alan, but my uncle and I absolutely refuse to believe such dirty lies about him. We knew him much better than those insufferable journalists after a story that sells!" Paul wished he had swallowed his tongue.

"I am sorry, Constance. I didn't know it was such a touchy subject for you…" To his utmost relief, Constance smiled a bit.

"Never mind. It was a long time ago. I am sure my uncle will get over it soon or later… I'll see you onboard, Paul, I've got to brief the rest of the cabin crew." She picked up her luggage and hurried out with the rest of the stewardesses and the air marshal without another word. Staring at the clock, Paul realised it was already eleven-thirty, only half an hour before take-off! Gulping down the last of his coffee, he hurried back to Chambers who was shaking his head in amusement from seeing Constance seemingly rejecting his captain's offer for a romantic date in New York.

"Women…" the young co-pilot chuckled, "No understanding them…" But Paul clearing his throat in a stern manner, made him swallow his tongue.

"Another word on that subject and I'll vote you out of promotion! Pre-flight check, lieutenant! What's the weather forecast for tonight?" Startled by Paul's sudden change of mood, Chambers hastily went over the report the control tower had faxed him before coming down to the airport.

"Low visibility and thick snowfall all the way to Dorset - but it clears out over the Atlantic. There is also a sighting of that strange Aurora over New Forest again; we might be flying through it tonight to avoid that incoming storm on the southern seaboard..." Although the New Forest area had been declared a restricted zone for the past few years due to nuclear fallout left over from the recent war, commercial airliners were still allowed to fly over the area at high altitude without fear of exposure to radiation. Only tonight, a new phenomenon, mistaken for radioactive interference in the atmosphere, was materialising over New Forest - a lurking danger for anything that flew into its path, which had already claimed Dr Johnson's plane and Major McEwen's chopper.

"_If_ we take off at all, with all that muck outside," said Paul, watching the thick blizzard outside the glass windows of the terminal, which was obstructing his view of the runways. If the weather continued on like this, soon all flights would be grounded for the rest of the night. And there was something strangely aerie about that winter sky, which troubled him... But, currently, he had other responsibilities to tend to, including getting ready for departure. He turned to his colleague, "Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, Paul and Chambers sat on the flight deck of _Oceanic Airlines_ Flight 571, a twin-engine Boeing 767 that flew regular transatlantic flights between the United States and Europe. With Paul seated in his usual left-hand side captain's seat and Chambers on the co-pilot's right, where he would be sitting for the last time tonight, the two pilots went through their routine pre-flight check.

As Chamber had predicted, because of the heavy weather front on the southern seaboard, they would be making a detour overland, to Dorset, flying straight through the New Forest area, before making their way out over the Atlantic, towards America. With the fuelling truck outside topping off their tanks and the de-icing team sprinkling the plane's wings with anti-freeze, they could hear their passengers in the back starting to get restless, impatient for take-off. A routine flight like any other...or so Paul hoped.

Meanwhile, in the rear of the aircraft, in economy, Ratty Marcus was trying to make his way along the crowded aisle to his seat, 52-B. Stowing away his rucksack and coat in the overhead locker and stowing his laptop under his seat, his sat down beside Air Marshal Harris and another thin man in a smart French suit.

"Bonjour," said the man, offering his hand to shake, "Dr Loomis Renaud, Curie Medical Institute." Dr Renaud was a French physician, on his way to attend a conference on the development of a new drug in New York. But, despite their polite exchange of words, Ratty was not in the mood for chatting, his mind still dwelling over his certificate of dismissal issued, tucked away in his bag. Trying to banish the miserable thought of having to confront his parents in the morning, which, he knew, were terribly upset with him for goofing up his studies, he fastened his seatbelt, hoping to drift off to sleep and forget his problems for a while.

Meanwhile, on the flight deck, Constance knocked on the cockpit door and entered, carrying the passenger list, which she handed to Paul, "Ticket check is finished, Captain; all 105 passengers onboard are onboard and the tarmac crew reports the baggage loaded and stowed away. We're ready for departure."

Hearing the tower inform them that they had a temporary gap in their air traffic and with the bad weather quickly shifting their way, which would probably cause the airport to shut down any moment now, Paul seized the opportunity. He turned to Chambers, who was still working through the checklist, "Send word to the truck crew to roll up their hoses and clear off. We're leaving now." Although sceptical, Chambers, being a less experienced pilot, thought it wise not to argue and put the checklist away.

"Your call, Captain."

While Chambers announced their departure to the control tower over the radio, Paul addressed the passengers over the intercom, _"Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome aboard Oceanic Flight 571 to La Guardia, New York. Estimated flight time is eight hours and 50 minutes. Also, approximately half an hour after take-off, we will be flying through the Aurora, which I am sure will be a beautiful sight for everyone to enjoy, before we redirect to the coast. Enjoy your flight and thank you for flying Oceanic Airlines."_

Soon, Flight 571 was taxiing along the runway, preparing for take-off. With Chambers manning the throttles and Paul the stick and rudder, ten minutes later, the airliner was airborne and at cruising altitude, on a southwesterly course, leaving the snowed-in London area behind.

Climbing above the blizzard, soon they were flying through clearer weather over the clouds, which shadowed the English countryside. In the back, Constance had the cabin crew on their toes, unloading the galley trolleys, serving up drinks and snacks to the passengers. As they flew over Hampshire, towards Dorset, suddenly, Paul saw it; dead ahead, about five miles to their twelve o'clock, was that mysterious Aurora, its bright ribbons of rainbow colours resembling a giant, luminous curtain floating in the night sky.

As they neared the Aurora, Paul suddenly noticed a blinking light appear out of nowhere on his radar screen, heading straight towards them. _Strange… I thought the Tower said there was no other air traffic in the area_. Homing in on the signal for an identification number, thinking it might be another plane, he couldn't pick up any transponder signature. He pointed it out to Chambers who shrugged it away.

"Just a swarm of birds most likely. If it were another plane, it would definitely have a transponder. No idiot PP would be flying in such weather anyway…" Paying the mysterious signal no further heed, the co-pilot pressed the call button to summon a stewardess for some tea. But Paul, unnerved by that mysterious signal getting closer and closer, got on the radio to Heathrow Control.

"Heathrow Tower, we have an unidentified signal on our flight path approaching fast from heading 085. Please check and advice."

"_Roger Flight 571, maintain your current heading and altitude. Stand by." _ The seconds ticked by in silence, Paul watching nervously as the distance between them and the unknown signal getting shorter and shorter, yet seeing nothing ahead through the fog. Suddenly, he heard the Heathrow flight controller again, yelling, _"Flight 571, you are on a collision course with a non-responsive aircraft! Divert immediately…!"_ Then, he saw it: a small Cessna 172 suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, only a few yards away, heading straight towards them on a head-on collision!

"JESUS CHRIST! Hard to port, now!"

With the plane only a second away from flying straight into their laps, Paul and Chambers both grabbed hold of the controls, making an evasive turn. But it was too late; before they knew it, the Cessna was upon them, its exposed wing grazing their starboard engine like the blade of a swinging knife. The violent impact shook the plane, followed by the booming sound of an explosion - a sound that was instantly muffled by the screams of terrified passengers in the back. In another instant, the klaxon alarm was blaring in their ears, multiple caution lights lighting up on the control panel, as the engine burst into flame.

Paul quickly hit the fuel-cut off switch for Engine #2 and activated the in-built fire extinguisher to douse the flames. Hastily readjusting the thrust on the remaining port engine to compensate for the loss of power, and trimming the stabilizers, he bellowed across the line, "Mayday, mayday! This is Flight 571 declaring an emergency! We're hit! Starboard engine is out, further extent of damage unknown. Request heading for nearest airport! Our location is…" He had only a second to register that they had reached the edge of the Aurora, which illuminated the cockpit in rainbow colours, before their real problems started…

Meanwhile, Ratty had gone to the rear of the aircraft, to use the lavatory. Flushing the toilet, he turned to the basin to brush his teeth. Although he was hungry, he had decided to skip dinner and turn in early, hoping to get as many hours of blissful sleep as possible, in preparation for confronting his father in the morning. Perhaps, if he could convince him that the fault was the university's and not his own, he might ask for his help to submit another academic appeal to the Rector, or transfer to another university…

Suddenly, without warning, Ratty was caught off-guard as the plane tilted sideways, followed by a violent vibration that nearly sent him through the roof of the lavatory. The mirror above the basin was instantly shattered by the shock, showering the small room with razor-sharp glass shards. Ratty threw his arms in front of his face to shield himself, wincing as pieces of the broken mirror cut into his skin and clothing. He could feel the plane shaking and swaying dangerously, telling the boy that they were in trouble. He could hear the panicked screams outside the door and the voices of the cabin crew trying to reassure passengers.

Hastily doing up his pants, he forced the jammed lavatory door open, eager to get back to his seat. But no sooner had he stepped out into the aisle, which was strewn with baggage that had fallen out of the overhead lockers, than all the lights suddenly went out, plunging the cabin in total darkness, filled with the terrified screams of his fellow passengers…

Constance had been pushing the trolley up the aisle through economy, serving drinks. She was just passing a gin-and-tonic to Dr Renaud, when she was suddenly thrown to the floor by the violent vibration of the collision, pinned beneath the trolley, which came down on top of her. Instant panic and chaos ensued, as baggage lockers burst open, spilling their contents all around the cabin, hitting passengers on the aisle seats.

Glancing out through the windows, she caught a glimpse of the small plane that had hit them, disappearing into the background, leaving the engine it had grazed in its path, burning behind it. Bright orange flames and smoke licked the cabin windows, intensifying the panic.

"Oh my God, fire! We're going to die!" someone screamed, as bruised and panicked passengers seemed about to jump from their seats in fright. Fighting to control her own fear, Constance pushed the overturned trolley off of her, struggling to keep the passengers calm. She could see her colleagues, as well as several of the passengers, already tending to the wounded, including a beverage-drenched Dr Renaud, who was on his feet, tending to an injured woman in the seat in front of him. At the back, she saw a battered Ratty Marcus forcing his way out of the wrecked lavatory.

As she tried to make her way towards the boy and help him back to his seat, a new crisis followed: the cabin lights suddenly flickered and went out. The emergency circuit, which was supposed to automatically spring to life, failed to respond. Renewed screams of panic followed, as the cabin crew struggled to preserve order, now faced with the additional problem of not being able to see, and with all the emergency flashlights stowed in the fore and aft galleys, out of reach.

Realising the boy was likely to trip and hurt himself, Constance, using the still-glowing phosphorous aisle markers on the floor, made her way towards him and pulled him back to his seat. Blindly helping him fasten his seatbelt, she failed to notice the Aurora outside becoming a vortex, engulfing the plane and swallowing them…

Meanwhile, up in the cockpit, Paul and Chambers had their own problems; and it wasn't from further damage caused by the collision. All their flight instruments had suddenly started dancing, displaying erratic readings, as if caught in some sort of magnetic interference. Suddenly, the plane was engulfed in a bright white vortex of rainbow light, as it touched the Aurora, swallowing them into its depths. Then, all the lights blacked out.

With no emergency power and with all instruments now down across the board, the pilots fought hard to regain control. Although they had no functioning indicators to give them any flight readings, they could feel the G-forces of the enormous velocity they were being carried along at, reaching speeds only encountered in steep nosedives. They were going down! Paul pulled back hard on the stick, trying to break free of the vortex's embrace; the elevator wouldn't respond. He tried making a turn; likewise, the rudder wasn't responding either. He couldn't even roll the aircraft.

"Damn, we've lost hydraulics! Switch to backup systems, now!" But even as Chambers turned the emergency levels on the pedestal, switching over to the backup pumps, they didn't get any response from either control stick. The plane was dead as a doornail, flying completely out of control. Even as the pilots resorted to switching over to complete manual control, they got nothing.

"Nothing, sir, no control. Oh, Lord, we're going to break up!" shouted Chambers, furiously shaking the unresponsive control stick in every direction, trying desperately to regain control, as the wild turbulence of the vortex continued beating the aircraft with all its might.

"Calm down, don't force it!" barked Paul, trying to 'feel' what his plane was feeling. Being a flight veteran, he had had his fair share of mid-flight mechanical failures and could easily recognise them. This wasn't hydraulic failure, otherwise the controls would gradually be growing sluggish, not instantly go dead on them; and it wasn't a broken jackscrew either, otherwise the stick would be stiff as a board. And the electrical failure they were experiencing didn't affect the hydraulic system, which functioned manually. It was unlike anything Paul had ever seen before, almost as if this mysterious force outside was carrying the plane along…to _where_?

Before he knew it, it was over. With another bright flash of light, the vortex spat them out on the far side of the Aurora. The electrics flickered back to life; he could hear the remaining port engine still roaring on full power in the background, as well as the murmuring of the frightened passengers in the back, but no further signs of apparent trouble. Several instruments were down, but he could still retain control of the crippled aircraft…for the moment.

Staring out the windshield, Paul suddenly realised something was very wrong. The weather had suddenly turned crystal clear; the cloud cover, the blizzard and the Aurora had all vanished; now, a bright starry sky stretched out to the horizon. What had happened?

As he turned to Chambers, he saw his colleague clutching his face with both hands, moaning in pain; the blood trickling down the co-pilot's front told Paul that his colleague had been badly hurt. One of the navigation screens had exploded from a surge caused by the turbulence, sending razor-sharp splinters into the man's eyes, blinding him. At that moment, Constance entered the cockpit, walking over the collapsed door, which had been knocked clean off its hinges by the impact and now lay flat on the edge of the aisle.

"Paul, what's happened? Oh my God…!" she gasped, spotting the maimed Chambers bleeding grotesquely in his seat. Without taking his hands off the controls, Paul turned to her for a report.

"What's the situation back there?"

"Two passengers have collapsed into seizures. I have already checked the passenger manifest; we have three doctors aboard and they're already pitching in to help…" she said, her eyes wide with terror. The instant the blackout had passed, she and her colleagues had turned to check on the passengers, discovering two elderly ones with pacemaker implants having heart attacks. Several others had suffered cuts or bruises from falling luggage, including a steward who had broken both his legs from a loose galley trolley. Air marshal Harris had already taken charge, helping the cabin crew tend to the wounded, all the while trying to control the panic. For the moment, the situation seemed to be more or less under control. But they couldn't expect it to stay like that for much longer.

With the plane badly damaged, and now with injured passengers onboard, Paul realised an immediate landing was imperative. The question was, would they be able to make it to the nearest airport with only one working engine? Was the plane in any condition for a routine landing? And where had that vortex come from?

"What about structural damage? See anything back there?"

"The forward galley is a mess from a loose drinks trolley and several overhead lockers have burst open. The oxygen masks have also deployed, but there doesn't seem to be any decompression…" Paul's eyes darted to the cabin pressure regulators and saw that indeed, thankfully, they hadn't lost pressure, indicating they hadn't suffered any severe structural damage from the turbulence. The oxygen masks deploying was simply the result of the sensitive safety sensor being tripped from the blackout.

Turning back to his radio, he switched over to the emergency band and activated the plane's distress locator beacons, sending out another mayday, "Heathrow Approach, this is Flight 571, level at 12,000ft. We've lost our starboard engine and have casualties. Request heading to the nearest airport. Do you copy, over?" But he wasn't picking up anything anymore, other than crackling static. All communications were down across the board; even the satellite uplinks for the navigation systems had gone off the air. Meanwhile, the port engine was straining to keep up, slowly overheating, and leaving them precious little time to attempt a landing. If it seized before they could make it back to the airport, it would mean a blind, dead-stick crash landing in the middle of the English countryside, possibly resulting in a great many deaths. Realising the emergency at hand, Paul turned to Constance, who was waiting for further instructions.

"Get the doctor up here to help you move Chambers out; the casualties you can lie down flat on the forward galley floor, but keep the aisle clear. Make sure everybody is firmly strapped in, including the cabin crew – you, I'll need up here in the co-pilot's seat. Tell the passengers they can go off oxygen – we're below fifteen thousand and we haven't lost pressure. I am going to turn us round and make a run for Heathrow. Let's hope we can make it… Well, get on with it girl! And don't worry; everything is going to be all right!"

With the plane fully loaded, Paul made a turn, setting a new course back to Heathrow – the only airport in the south not closed yet from the blizzard -, using the stars, the panel's magnetic compass and his watch to navigate without the radio and navigation beacons. But, deep down, he already knew that they couldn't make it. The starboard engine was dead; the readouts for the port one were already in the red, indicating it would quit any moment now. He had tried dumping the fuel, to lighten the plane, but found the purge valves were jammed and inoperable. And without some means of communication, he had no way to confirm if the runway at Heathrow was still clear for them to land, until they had visual contact with the airport. What if it was snowed in solid by now and only realised it when it was too late?

_So much for an easy flight…_

Soon, Flight 571 was making a run for Heathrow - at least where Heathrow was _supposed to be_. Constance had returned with Dr Renaud and Harris and moved Chambers out of the cockpit, placing him on the galley floor, where the rest of the injured (or rather the dead) were also being made more comfortable with blankets and pillows the cabin crew had salvaged from the seats. The chief stewardess had then returned and strapped herself into the unoccupied co-pilot's seat, to assist Paul with the upcoming emergency landing.

Struggling to keep the plane level, Paul attempted again and again to regain contact with ground control, but to no avail. He had run a full systems' check, trying to figure out what was wrong, but found the results puzzling. It seemed almost as if the fault wasn't with his instruments at all, but with the ground stations. Sure enough, he hadn't taken long to realise that the entire country below seemed to have gone into a complete blackout; with the exception of the stars, the ground was now an endless sea of darkness, completely deprived of any artificial illumination, as far out as the eye could see. What had happened?

Only ten miles shy of the airport, he heard the klaxon start blaring again as more caution lights lit up on the panel. The port engine, overtaxed and overheated beyond its safety limits was going into emergency shutdown. Paul and Constance listened as the roaring jet on the wing slowly ground to a halt, leaving them gliding without power. With no other option left, Paul began an emergency descent. Pretty soon, he would be bringing a dead Booing 767 down in a crash landing, in the middle of nowhere. Although the terrain beneath them, he knew, was thankfully mostly open country, in this darkness, a jetliner this size encountering the slightest obstacle on touchdown, whether a patch of forest or a farmhouse, could mean the difference between life and death for everyone onboard.

Trimming the flaps and lowering the undercarriage, his mind kept flashing back to that 'ghost' Cessna that had hit them. Although it had only been visible for a few brief seconds, Paul was sure he knew that plane from somewhere before…With a gasp of realisation, he realised it had been none other than Dr Johnson's plane, which had supposedly crashed in New Forest, over a week ago! Slowly, everything began clicking together in his mind: what was happening to them was exactly what must have happened to Dr Johnson and that Royal Air Force chopper…

Then, he felt the force of the impact…

Back at Heathrow Control, the flight controllers in the tower were busy redirecting all incoming traffic to other airports up north, after the airport manager had ordered the airport closed until morning due to the heavy weather. Suddenly, one of the controllers monitoring the flight path of Flight 571, waiting for it to clear the coastal airspace, saw another faint signal appear on his screen. It seemed to be another aircraft with its transponder switched off, yet the man was at a loss as to how an aircraft could have materialised out of thin air in flight! Then he heard the pilot of 571, confirming that they were also picking up the same signal.

"_Heathrow, we have an unidentified signal on our flight path approaching fast from heading 085. Please check and advice. Over."_

"Roger Flight 571, maintain your current heading and altitude. Stand by."Using satellite surveillance, the flight control realised, with horror, that it was another plane, entering the flight path of Flight 571! He turned to his radio, trying to warn that mysterious plane, "Unidentified aircraft, be advised you are entering the flight path of a heavy jet. If you maintain your current heading, you will collide. I repeat, you will collide! Change your heading immediately!"

Getting no answer, he hurryingly turned back to Flight 571 to warn them, "Flight 571, you are on a collision course with a non-responsive aircraft! Divert immediately…!" But it was already too late.

With cold horror, the flight controller saw the dots marking the locations of the two aircraft on the radar screen, touch and then move off in opposite directions; the reading showed the unidentified aircraft go into a nose dive and vanish, as it fell below radar interception; Flight 571 seemed to have been knocked off its course but remained in the air. Then the flight controller heard Captain Conandale's voice again, declaring an emergency.

"_Mayday, mayday! This is Flight 571 declaring an emergency! We've struck another aircraft; our starboard engine is out, further extent of damage unknown. Request heading for nearest available airport!"_

But before the flight controller could give any instructions however, the radar signal began to weaken and then Flight 571 vanished from the screen as well. The flight controller felt his insides turn to ice; had the jetliner gone down like that Cessna? Panicking, he grabbed the phone from its cradle and alerted security.

In spite of a thorough search, the wreckage of Flight 571 was never found, nor any of its 105 missing passengers and crew. The incident was a devastating blow for _Oceanic Airlines_, when the families of those lost, the majority of which had been university students in the prime of life, filed lawsuits against the company for criminal negligence. The cause of the accident, as often happens, was ultimately ruled out as pilot error, pinning the blame posthumously on Paul. The airline eventually went bankrupt in the early 2020's and merged with British Airways and other companies that bought her remaining aircraft and stock.

Even after all airlines eventually closed in 2029 when the Apocalypse fell upon the Earth, the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Flight 571 remained unsolved; no one ever realised that the plane had simply vanished into _time_, thrown deep into an unknown future by a time warp…

**Author's note:** For those of you that are confused, Flight 571 is the plane that Alan's group hit after escaping from the future in the first book. I intend to introduce further parallel events for the next few chapters before returning to the original characters. Coming up next, the story of Jamie McEwen. Enjoy and please review! 


	3. Chapter 3 The Worst Birthday Ever

**December 27****th**** 2012**

The winter snow had settled on the streets of the village of Newtown Common in Hampshire, England. With the morning sky clear and bright, the neighbourhood resembled a picture out of a Christmas card, where local children were having snowball fights in the streets. It was a time of joy, a time to be with one's family. And such was the order of the day in the McEwen residence on the outskirts of the village.

In the attic bedroom, a boy in his early teens stretched and yawned as he woke up to another joyful day of his Christmas break. School had closed a week ago, and since then he had been the freedom of staying up late at night, as well as sleeping in late in the mornings as he pleased. Although his mother had firmly insisted he dedicate a minimum of two hours a day on his Christmas homework, as well as to do his share of chores, Jamie was enjoying his Christmas holiday - and not only because of his break from school, or his presents, or even his mother's superb Christmas cooking, but because he had the rare advantage of celebrating Christmas _two-fold_ every year. As it was, Christmas coincided with his _birthday_; and today was his thirteenth birthday! Feeling excited, he hurried out of bed to dress.

James Quinton McEwen Jr, who went by the nickname of Jamie, as not to be confused with his father's namesake, had been living in Newtown all his life. With limited contact with city life, Jamie was a country boy at heart, accustomed to the freedom of the countryside. His mother, Josie was the town's veterinarian, who run her infirmary and animal hotel in their home. As a result, the family often had many temporary house pets, either staying the night for a final check-up or sometimes simply looked in their busy owners' absence from town. The exception was Jamie's dog, Snitter, a fox terrier that they had adopted as a puppy after its previous owner, a neighbour, had died in a car accident leaving it to be carted off to the pound.

Jamie's father was a withdrawn Royal Air Force pilot, a former war veteran, who now flew the helicopter for the local Search and Rescue squadron stationed at the local disused Royal Air Force Base outside Newbury. Only called to work during drills or on actual rescue missions which rarely occurred in these parts, James McEwen Sr. would spend his time either helping out his wife with her animal care, or spend time with his son, taking him on camping trips, teaching him military survival skills, and even teaching him to fly. Despite his father's small income, his mother's job, which was one of the most important ones in town, kept the family reasonably well off. In short, Jamie was part of a whole and happy family.

Putting on his shoes, he hurried downstairs, where he was greeted by Snitter, who stood up on his hind legs to lick his young master in the face. Giving his dog a pat, Jamie walked into the kitchen, where he was engulfed in a warm hug by his waiting mother, "Happy Birthday, Jamie!"

"Come on tiger, look smart," said his father, slapping his son playfully on the shoulder, "It isn't everyday one turns thirteen you know!" Smiling at her son's embarrassment, Josie ushered him over to the table, where a large birthday breakfast, complete with a chocolate cake decorated with thirteen burning candles, awaited. Jamie wasted no time; taking a deep breath, he blew out his candles, while his parents cheered. His father was about to light a cigar – a lifelong habit for celebrating special occasions – but his mother gave him a reproachful glare.

"No smoking in this house, James! Especially when we are about to eat!" Jamie chuckled as his father sulkily took the soggy cigar out of his mouth and tucked it back into his pocket.

After a king-sized breakfast, came the best part of Jamie's birthday party; the opening of his presents. The boy whistled aloud as he unwrapped his first gift, from his mother; a brand-new Blackberry cell phone, complete with all features, fell out of its wrapper. The second gift, from his father, was more interesting; it was a multi-tool Swiss Army knife, consisting of several different blades, scissors, magnifying glass, flint, bottle-opener, screwdriver, and even a compass, complete with a golden crest bearing Jamie's initials, "Cool! Thanks Mum, Dad." His mother smiled.

"You're welcome sweetheart."

"And it isn't all," continued his father, presenting him with yet another wrapped present, "Your Grandpa Mike sent you this." Mike McEwen, James' father, a long-retired fighter pilot, run a small second-hand-charity bookshop in the neighbouring village of Whitchurch, adding some more money to his meagre military pension, "I figured it would go nicely with your knife." Jamie tore open the wrapping, which contained a pocket copy of the _SAS Survival Guide_, one of the finest survival guides on the market.

"And…" he father continued, "I also have a little extra treat for you." Josie looked at her husband, "James, you'll spoil him rotten!" Ignoring his wife, James said, "Remember Tom is having his aircraft serviced? Well, I received a call from him this morning, asking for someone to bring it back from Greenham and I volunteered, on the condition that we get a free flying lesson. You up for it, son?"

An hour later, Jamie and his father were on their way to Greenham Common Royal Air Force Base, on the outskirts of Newbury. Originally an American overseas missile launch station during the Cold War, the disused base now operated mostly as a backup Air Force training site, as well as the local Search and Rescue.

Parking his motorcycle in the small parking lot on the edge of the field, James and his son made their way towards one of the few of the derelict buildings on the base still in use. The room on the ground floor was just as shabby as the exterior of the building, filled with antique World War II furnishings, yet held an air of comfort, with a small bar and a pilots' lounge, all of which were decorated with a collection of pilot's gadgets, photographs and aircraft models mounted on the walls, recording the history of the many different eras the airstrip had seen. An old spiral staircase with a 'no admittance' sign hanging on a chain at the bottom, led up to the control tower on the roof.

The Air Force Rescue crew were in the lounge, drinking coffee and playing pool, on standby for any alert. As they noticed McEwen enter, they all stood at attention to salute him, "Major, sir!"

"Lieutenant Pilot Smith, Air Medic Harrison, Air Mechanic Stacy, gentlemen!" McEwen acknowledged, gracefully returning the salute, as was his custom from his 15-year long career in the Royal Air Forces, "Carry on!" The men returned to their business as McEwen and Jamie entered the base officer's office. McEwen stood at attention and saluted the grisly-haired Wing Commander, who had been stationed at Greenham for years, even after the base had fallen into disuse.

After filling in the standard protocol paperwork, bearing the Wing Commander' authorisation to transport the glider back to Sutch and Martin's, McEwen was dismissed, and headed outside with his son, towards the hangers on the far side of the field.

Aside from the yellow Sea King Commando helicopter used by McEwen's Search and Rescue squadron, the old airfield hangers were all empty and ruinous, unused for years. The two-seat Schleicher motor glider stood under one of the few undamaged hangers, where it had been stored temporarily by the base aircraft mechanic who had serviced it, waiting to be flown to the flight club from where it belonged. McEwen stared at the plywood-and-plexiglass aircraft in wonder.

"Now this what I call a real lady of the skies. Sure beats the hell out of the Nimbus model I used to fly with your Grandpa when I was your age. Still, gliders are the only aircraft that don't really age. With all that fancy technology aeronautical engineers throw at us nowadays, flying is becoming child's play…"

"Think we'll ever be able to ever afford one, Dad?" asked Jamie, who always enjoyed flying and was hoping to become a pilot when he grew up, "Have our own glider I mean?" Although gliders were pricey and with the economic crisis caused by the war of 2009, such a purchase would logically be unthinkable, James, who loved flying as much as his son, smiled.

"Perhaps. But we must be patient. Stan Hallows has been telling me his boss plans to sell it; I hear his flight club will be closing down when the Council sets up the new outfit here at Greenham... Anyway, I bargained for a price and we settled on £25,000; I agreed to pay it in monthly instalments over the next four years. He says we can start using it as ours when I've finished paying the first £18,000. If all goes well, it will be your 17th birthday present. That will also give you enough time for me to train you properly to fly it."

Jamie couldn't believe his ears! His ambition was to become a true pilot and now his father had seized the opportunity to make it possible for him to take the first big step. He turned and hugged his father, who hugged him back, "Thanks Dad. You truly are the best!" McEwen smiled, "I know, son. So, _captain_, are you ready for our pre-flight check?"

Half an hour later, both father and son were airborne, with Jamie manning the controls on the front seat, with his father supervising his flying lesson in the back. Over the past year, McEwen had given his son several flying lessons on the glider, whenever he could afford it, who was quickly shaping out to be a good flyer. Following his father's instructions over the headset, Jamie practised different manoeuvres and aerobatics.

James watched with a deep sense of pride his son, a natural at flying, handle the glider splendidly. But when it came to simulating a dangerous rolling manoeuvre, by turning the glider upside-down for a mock emergency bailout, a crosswind hit them, almost sending the inverted glider into a stall, and forcing McEwen to take the controls and level them out. With the wind kicking up, McEwen cut the lesson short and set course for Sutch and Martin's Flight Club.

The small flight club was situated on the edge of Sandleford National Park, not too far from Greenham. Founded by two World War II aviators, after which it was named, in the early 1960's, originally it had been an auxiliary airstrip during the Blitz, eventually abandoned, before it had been bought and restored as a private flight club. After the original owners had sold the business several years ago, the club had eventually come into the hands of Tom Shelton. Although, for some time, Shelton had managed the business well, his luck was quickly running out lately.

With the vast airstrip of the old Greenham base handed over to the civilian sector, the Newbury Council had proposed the idea of restoring it as a new flight club, placing Tom Shelton on the brink of ruin. With a new, bigger outfit emerging, his little club was about to lose all its clients.

Run by only four people, including Shelton and an assistant as flight controllers, old Toot-toot, the aircraft mechanic and Julio Andre, the club's pilot and instructor, and with only two aircraft, including the glider James trained his son on, the club was now a crummy business, practically worthless. The Council had plans of converting the premises into a trailer park for campers once the new club at Greenham opened, which would ultimately put poor Tom Shelton out of business.

While Jamie handled the approach on his first solo, his father handled the radio, requesting permission to land, "SAM Control, this is Glider-1, do you copy, over?"

"_Yes Major, we read you,"_ came the voice of Stan Hallows, the assistant flight controller, currently manning the radio in the shack, _"Enter circling pattern and hold your current position; you are number two, following take-off of the Cessna."_ Instructing Jamie to follow a temporary circling pattern while they awaited clearance to land, father and son watched as the Cessna Skylark on the ground sped along the grassy runway for takeoff. As soon as it was airborne, heading southwest towards New Forest, Hallows signalled the glider was clear to land; once again, with McEwen ready to take over should things get out of hand, Jamie followed his father's instructions, taking the glider down through a reasonably smooth landing.

"Well done, Jamie," McEwen said as he helped his son out of his parachute pack, while Hallows and Tom Shelton pushed the glider into its hanger nearby, "Now you're a real pro!"

As James went inside to return the parachutes for storage, Jamie walked over to Tom, "Excuse me, sir, where can I find Kenny?" Shelton, who was busy covering the glider with its nylon rain covers, turned to glare at him as if he were something unpleasant on the bottom of his shoe, "He's home doing his chores, if you must know. He'll be free tomorrow."

Kenneth 'Kenny' Shelton was Tom's only son and Jamie's closest friend. However, in contrast to Jamie, Kenny's life wasn't remotely as happy. His mother had passed away when he was still a baby; his father, bitter and hateful, resented him and even mistreated him at times. Although he never went far enough to have the law on him, the lack of affection created a constantly growing void between father and son. Combined with Tom's escalating bad habits of gambling and drinking, due to his failing business, which was pushing the family on the brink of bankrupsy, their home environment was one of short-temperedness and neglect. Jamie's parents had often tried to persuade Kenny to help them build a case to have him removed from his abusive father's care, but the proud teen, preferring to fight his own battle alone, had insisted that as long as he kept out of his father's way, he was fine.

Although Jamie hated Tom Shelton with a passion, he was real close to his son. The two of them would always be seen together, whether at school, over weekends, or during holiday breaks. Jamie's parents often invited Kenny over to stay, or taking him out with them on daytrips, which Kenny would gladly accept, eager to get away from the endless chores his authoritarian, semi-abusive father would throw at him.

It was well past three o'clock when McEwen's motorcycle pulled into the driveway of the McEwen home, an Elizabethan-era style redbrick cottage, commonly found in these parts of England. A disused greenhouse adjacent to the house, built by the previous owner, housed the kennels for the sick animals that came into Josie's care. There were no flowerbeds or vegetable patches in the garden, consisting merely of bare, trimmed lawns on either side of the garden path. A brass sundial mounted on a marble pedestal, which McEwen had erected the day he had moved in with his newly wed wife and their newborn son thirteen years ago, stood in the centre of the lawn.

"Mum, we're home!" Jamie called as he and his father walked along the garden path and up to the porch. They were half-expecting Josie to be in the kitchen, waiting to chastise them for missing lunch again; instead, they found her sitting before the television, looking dreadfully upset. McEwen walked over to his wife and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, "Honey, whatever is the matter?"

"There has been an accident," she said, pointing at the television, where a newsman was speaking.

"…_At 12:35 today, a chartered Cessna was reported missing shortly after entering the restricted New Forest dead zone, with sudden and completely inexplicable loss of both radio and radar communication. Ground and satellite searches for the missing plane have so far turned out unsuccessful. Onboard the ill-fated aircraft were Dr Alan Johnson, former professor of the Royal London University, accompanied by his colleague and close friend Dr Derek Shaw, and pilot Julio Andre. Dr Johnson, 34, who has reportedly been battling depression following the tragic deaths of his wife Mary and his daughter Lucy last year, was a virtual recluse and alcoholic, prone to mental breakdown. Whispered speculations question whether or not Johnson himself might actually be the mastermind behind this mysterious accident…" _

Josie switched off the television and fled from the room, her husband following her upstairs to comfort her. Jamie stood dumbstruck, realising that this missing plane was, in fact, the very same one they had seen take off from the flight club that very morning. Thinking back, he could vaguely remember hearing on the news about that man Johnson's family being murdered last year; his mother had been quite upset back then too, yet she had never explained why. What was this Johnson guy to his mother? Why was she distressed with the misfortunes of a complete stranger whom she had apparently never met in her life?

Later that night, James and Josie lay together in bed. Josie had been upset all evening, hardly saying a word, in spite of her bewildered husband's attempts to comfort her. As she sniffled miserably into her pillow, James whispered into her ear, "You can't keep it bottled up forever, honey. It would do you a lot of good if you told me what this is all about."

"What's the use, James? You didn't even know him…" She instantly fell silent, realising she had said more than what she had intended. McEwen seemed to realise that too, as he turned to her, "So you _did_ know this Johnson fellow from somewhere?" Realising she had no way out, Josie turned to face her husband with the truth.

"I first met Alan Johnson at St Mary's Orphanage in London, where I grew up as a child after my parents died." With her husband listening patiently, Josie told him her story.

"Alan and his friends – Derek Shaw also being one of them – were my childhood friends for years. When we were teenagers, Alan and I…well, we found our first love in each other. When Alan applied for a degree in zoology at Aberdeen University, I chose Liverpool, as it offered a better degree in animal medicine… Anyway, we rarely saw each other for the next few years, until I finally grew tired of waiting and walked out on him, something for which I've always felt ashamed of… I later learned he had started dating a fellow student, who eventually became his wife and the mother of his daughter. And I met you."

McEwen smiled at the memory; he had grown up in Liverpool and had been about to enter the Royal Air Force Training Corps at the time, following in his father's footsteps, when he had first met Josie Clayton. Starting out as friends, their friendship had soon blossomed into romance. Then, just when Josie had graduated and James had qualified as a Royal Air Force pilot, she had found she was pregnant with his child. Not willing to have an abortion, they had decided to marry and start a family. James had given up his career as a full-time fighter pilot, and, with his Captain father's help, had transferred to the Search and Rescue in Greenham as squadron leader, which allowed him a decent salary and enough time to be with his family.

"I've always felt I had done him wrong by walking out of him. For years, I've wanted to tell him how sorry I was. I guess I waited too long…" James gently took her hand.

"Honey, maybe it isn't my place to say this, but I understand how you feel. Shortly before I met you, I too had a girlfriend with whom I was crazy in love; then, one day, she walked out on me for no reason. Now, she's married to my former high school nemesis, with three children. This is all part of life. You said yourself that this friend of yours was more dedicated to his work and that he was to you. Nobody is at fault here, least of all _you_; both of you did the right thing by moving on. It's just the shock of seeing someone you once cared about to go out like this; but it's all a thing of the past. Now we are happily married, we have our son, our home…"

"I'm sorry James. I've become foolish," said Josie, looking slightly more cheerful, relieved that her husband held no grudge that she had secretly been harbouring feelings for someone whom she hadn't seen in years, one who was now dead nonetheless, "Thank you for understanding."

"Anytime, love, anytime," James said with a smile as he pulled his wife close to kiss her…

Within the privacy of his own bedroom, Jamie lay in bed, playing with his new cell phone, flowing his favourite songs, games and applications on it. But in the back of his mind, he kept wondering, why did today's accident have such an impact on his mother? Based on what little he had heard about this Professor Johnson character, this fellow sounded like a complete wanker, another every-day loser who wasn't worth their time. And why wouldn't she tell him or Dad what was troubling her about him? Finally, tired of his thoughts, he switched off the lights and drifted off to sleep, lost into strange dreams of Alan Johnson and giant talking rabbits...

By next morning, everything was back to normal; the family sat down to breakfast as usual and then began their day. As McEwen was on his Christmas leave, he decided to spend it with his son at home. Aside from being an Air Force pilot, the head of the McEwen family was an amateur electronics enthusiast and liked to make things out of scrap. A corner of the garage had been converted into a small workshop for that purpose; that was where he and his son would spend hours toying around with electronic junk, inventing all sorts of interesting gadgets out of old electronics they'd fish out of the rubbish.

They were busy working on constructing a working spark-gap transmitter, when Josie suddenly appeared at the door, "James, phone call!" Setting aside the circuit welder he had been working with, James hurried over to take his call, "Hallo, James McEwen speaking. Yes, Commander?"

"It's from Greenham," he told his family after he had hung up, "Sheriff Fowler has decided to conduct a final aerial search for Johnson's plane over New Forest. We fly in half an hour."

"Oh Dad, can I come too?" asked Jamie, eager to see a real search and rescue mission up close. But his father shook his head sadly, "Sorry, son; you know regulations strictly forbid us to take on observers." Dashing upstairs to change into his flight uniform, he hurried to the door. Turning to kiss his wife, he whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, honey; if Johnson is still alive, we'll find him." Grabbing his flight helmet, he bid his family goodbye, "See you all in a little while!" and was gone.

With nothing else to do, Jamie decided to go out and spend the day with Kenny. After promising his mother he would be back by lunchtime, and giving her his new cell number in case she needed to contact him, he set off on his bicycle and made for their usual meeting place: Newtown Common Churchyard, on the outskirts of town, along the road to Newbury.

The old church, built in 1865 on the site of the original medieval chapel, dating back to the town's founding in the early 13th century, was surrounded by a graveyard, now scarcely used. With several ancient pine trees and a neat lawn, the graveyard served as the boys' playground, where they'd play football, set off firecrackers on Bonfire day, among other fun times. As Jamie approached the churchyard on his bike, he saw his best friend on his own rickety bicycle by the gate, expecting him.

Kenny Shelton was a scrawny-looking boy of fourteen, rather skinny for his age, with unkempt hair, yet a very loyal friend of Jamie's. In contrast to his reasonably well-off friend, Kenny's attire consisted of baggy, frayed hand-me-downs from his father, which were the only clothes he had to wear, Tom Shelton only providing little more than enough for his son to survive, attend school, and stay out of his hair. His birthday presents consisted mostly of fresh hand-me-downs and permission to spend extra time with his friend. Discipline was strict at home and Kenny was often made to do longer and far more difficult chores than Jamie ever did. He had no cell phone, no watch, or any other prized belongings, and no pocket money either. Even his bicycle was a shabby, second-hand gift from Jamie - a dream present, given his miserable life. However, despite his deprived life with his authoritarian and stingy father, Kenny still found everything he really wanted through his friendship with Jamie.

"Hey dude, how goes it?" Jamie asked, giving Kenny a high-five, which his friend returned. "Fine, all things considered. Unless you count my arsehole of a Dad making me hoover the house inside out yesterday, so that_ I could be here today_. I have a good mind to let his truck tyres down…"

"Good enough, because it's your turn to plan today's adventure. Any thoughts, mate?" An 'adventure' often involved getting into mischief, like exploring the abandoned, off-limits warehouses and silk mills in the area, or sometimes even pranking people, the most frequent victim being Kenny's father. In order for both of them to come up with ideas for their adventures, they had developed a system, where each would take turns to find a worthwhile pursuit. Today was Kenny's.

"I have just the thing, man," Ken replied with an evil smile, "Remember what I have been telling you about my father leaving home all the time, to meet someone in secret?" During the past few months, Shelton Sr. had developed a strange habit of leaving home without explanation, to some unknown place. Once, Ken had built up to courage to ask his father where he was going, who had replied, to the tax department, trying to sort out their financial issues, followed by a reproachful warning to Ken to mind his own business if he knew what was good for him.

Tom would often leave early in the morning and not return until late in the evening and sometimes until the next day, leaving his son his usual list of chores for the day, as well as an occasional reminder of the stupid rules he was expected to follow in his absence. These included not stealing food, other than what his father would leave him for the day, not to touch any of his possessions, and not to leave the house until after he had finished his chores. Not surprisingly, this was a welcome change for Ken, who'd have free reign of the house for a while, enjoying those periods of freedom from his father's miserable company. Jamie looked on with interest at his friend's smug smile, "Well, I think I finally found out where he is going!"

After outlining his plan to Jamie, the two friends set off on their bicycles, heading for the neighbouring village of Overton. On the outskirts of that village, close to Cole Henley, was a handsome manor called Buxton Hall, the home of wealthy industrialist Joseph Buxton. The property, an abandoned early 20th century tin mine site, had once been the Buxton family's cash machine, until the last of the ore had been depleted. The Buxtons had then left the country for years, until old Joseph, the only surviving descendant, had returned from Russia, having made a new fortune abroad, and built his home on the site. The mine on the estate was supposedly being currently restored as a tourist attraction, but remained strictly off-limits.

The property, some two square miles in circumference, was surrounded by a high, electric fence with hazard warning signs, making any trespassing impossible. The elegant manor beyond, completely isolated from the prying eyes and ears from the outside world, no doubt was a perfect hiding place for secret, skunk work - which, unbeknownst to Jamie or Kenny, was exactly what was going on and worse. Hiding their bicycles behind some trees on the edge of the road, the boys crept along the perimeter of the fence, up to a spot where they had a good view of the house.

"Dad has been coming to this place all this time. He hasn't been to the casino, or the pub, or the flight club, or even the tax department in London. I have been observing him through the window with binoculars; he had been seeing that old fatso Buxton and a bunch of nasty-looking bozos. Each time they meet, they are always careful never to discuss anything outside; once, I overheard someone at the gate talking about something called Project Black Inferno nearing completion, and the guy next to him punched him in the face to shut him up before he could say more. I have also overheard Dad talking about the same thing over that secure line he had installed in our home last year. I am telling you, man, they are up to no good!"

"I see your point, mate," Jamie said, trying to make heads or tails out of his friend's mumbling, "Have you heard anything else?"

"You bet I have," said Ken smugly, "For the past few days, I have been eavesdropping on my father whenever he was using that private line of his. The topic of his discussion with whoever is on the other end, has always been about that guy who disappeared yesterday, Alan Johnson. That other guy Shaw too, as well as someone else - Robbins I think his name was - were also mentioned frequently, but I couldn't understand exactly what was being said about them. Something about wanting to trap them, because they knew something... I don't know. My father would only talk briefly, almost as if he feared someone might actually be eavesdropping!"

Jamie felt more perplexed than ever; first this bloke Johnson apparently has some strange connection to his mother, and now his name pops up in Tom Shelton's secret meetings with Buxton and his men. What was all this about? It made no sense. What did they want with Johnson? Perhaps his disappearance was no accident?

Before he could formulate some sort of deduction however, he heard his BlackBerry vibrate in his pocket with an incoming call. It was his mother, calling him. He checked his watch_, Strange, it's still quite early. Is Dad back already?_ he thought as he answered the phone, "Hallo, Mum?"

"_Jamie, wherever you are or whatever you're doing, I need you to come back home right now. Something has happened. No questions now, sweetheart; just get back here and fast!"_ Her voice sounded desperate, almost tearful. Jamie frowned; what was going on? Explaining to Ken he was expected home at once, the boys returned to their bicycles and rode back to Newtown as fast as they could. Bidding Ken goodbye, promising to meet him again tomorrow, so they could go spying on the Buxton estate again, he hurried up the garden path, to the front door.

As he strode into the parlour, he was surprised to find his mother sitting in an armchair, weeping. Sitting in the chair opposite her was none other than Constable Jim Fowler, the local sheriff, who wore a frown on his face. Jamie felt his insides curl up; had someone seen him and Ken spying on the Buxton Estate and reported them to the police? However, that was not to be the case, as his distraught mother finally found her voice and explained, through her tears.

"Jamie, it's Dad. He…he has been killed..."

Jamie's fear of the consequences of having been caught trespassing was instantly replaced with cold horror, as Fowler explained that Major McEwen's chopper had vanished without a trace, apparently by the same cause that had made Alan Johnson's Cessna disappear the other day.

**Author's note:** For those of you who are confused, this part of the story is written in parallel to the first book, and this is when McEwen got thrown through the time portal and vanished into the future. If you spot any continuity errors to the first, please point them out. Enjoy and please REVIEW!


	4. Chapter 4 Where is Dad?

"I am so sorry about James, Josie," said Sheriff Fowler, as he explained to Josie and Jamie what had happened. According to the Greenham Wing Commander and his staff, who were all currently being questioned down at the station, Major McEwen's chopper had taken off from Greenham on schedule, following the Cessna's original flight path over New Forest, in hopes of pinpointing the location where Johnson's plane had gone down. Who would have guessed that the moment they had reached the coordinates of the Cessna's last known location, the chopper would vanish into thin air as well?

Just like before, no wreckage had been found, and no mayday had been sent prior to the moment of disappearance. With no further leads on the Cessna, and with Major McEwen's chopper now having disappeared as well, the eight people missing had all been given up for lost.

"The Air Force has already notified the families of Harrison, Stacey, and Smith," explained Fowler, "But I thought it best if I came and told you in person, being a friend of James and all... I'm so sorry." Josie looked up at Fowler with tearful eyes.

"Thanks, Jim. I really appreciate it…"

"Don't despair yet, Josie," said Fowler, patting her on the shoulder in reassurance, "Although the authorities have suspended all aerial searches over the dead zone, we'll be continuing with our satellite sweeps until we do find something. You know how competent a flyer James is; he might have set the chopper down somewhere, and waiting for rescue. If he's still alive, we'll find him. I promise."

"What about Alan Johnson? Has anyone notified his friends or relatives?" asked Josie, unable to resist inquiring about her old friend. Fowler felt rather perplexed at Josie's question; what did she care about a complete stranger – one who might have been a psychopathic murderer nonetheless - when he had just told her that her husband was missing and probably dead? However, he refrained from inquiring.

"We contacted Johnson's in-laws, but they've have bluntly refused to take care of the funeral arrangements – a grudge they hold for the death of their daughter last year, I suspect –, so that tycoon on the council, Mr Buxton has taken over the arrangements instead. The Mayor wants this business covered up as soon as possible before it bruises the good image of our district... His funeral will be held here in the local churchyard, the day after tomorrow."

"There will be a funeral for Alan?" Josie asked. Although she hated hearing that this Buxton, whom she knew had great influence on the local Council, taking over her former lover's funeral arrangements, because his own in-laws had turned their backs on him just like everyone else, she felt grateful that at least Alan would be laid to rest with decency, even out of a stranger's pocket. This would also be her chance to say a last goodbye, to close the book on her past once and for all.

There was nothing much more to be said. Fowler offered his condolences one last time and left to return to the station, to see how the ground searches were getting along, leaving a distraught Josie and Jamie to come to terms with the fact that their lives would now be very different…

In spite of a thorough search of New Forest via satellite, no trace of the chopper was found, and James McEwen and his crew were soon also declared dead. And so it was the very next day following the chopper's disappearance that a solicitor, accompanied by James' father, Mike, arrived for the reading of the will.

"There are no leans or claims on your joint assets, Mrs McEwen," said the solicitor, "As his surviving spouse, he has named you sole executive of his entire estate, which are to pass on to his next of kin, your son, following your own passing. Also, there are the benefits of his insurance." He passed her a briefcase filled with dozens of carefully wrapped bundles of banknotes.

"A total of £25,000, plus another £5,000 worth of personal savings, which have already been transferred to your account." Josie stared blankly down at the money - this was all that was left of her husband, aside from their house and their son, "Would you like to count it?"

"Eh... No, thank you, I am sure it's all there," she muttered, holding back tears; the last thing she wanted was to start counting the money which the state was literally giving her as a substitute for her husband. The solicitor nodded and handed her James' certificate of death for witnessing, which she signed with a trembling hand. Once the last of the paperwork was finished, the solicitor offered his condolences and departed. Mike paused for a moment to reassure his daughter-in-law and grandson that if they needed anything, not to hesitate to call him at any time, before leaving to take care of the funeral arrangements. With the last of James' affairs in order, the only thing left was to bury him…without his body.

On the second day following the accident, James' funeral was held. Josie and Jamie attended, along with Mike, James' Wing Commander, and several close friends. Although a fine funeral, with the deceased being laid to rest with all the decency in his family's power, it was nothing short of a painful occasion for the McEwens. An empty coffin was buried beneath the marble headstone bearing the name of James Quinton McEwen, a war veteran and devoted family man, born in 1974 and died in 2012, aged 38.

On the way home, Josie made a detour at the local churchyard, where another, double funeral was being held for the unwanted Alan Johnson and Derek Shaw. As for their pilot, Julio Andre, his family had made arrangements for his funeral to be held in his hometown back in Spain, as per his last wishes. Coincidently, there was another, unrelated funeral also being held - that of a Mr Russell Robbins, who had supposedly died in a car accident a few days ago, when his car had exploded after hitting a loaded fuel tanker following a skid on a curve.

In direct contrast to James' funeral, only a handful of mourners had come to pay their last respects to Johnson and Shaw. Josie recognised a few familiar faces from the old days as she joined the small crowd attending the ceremony: Father Herbert Campbell, the former head of the orphanage she had grown up in with Alan and Derek, Emily Hanson, Alan's housekeeper, and Hotdog Johnny Boone, Alan and Derek's petty criminal friend and last surviving member of their original gang. Josie noticed another of their friends, Ronald Fields, was strangely absent.

Despite the sad occasion, the attendees all turned to greet her warmly. Father Herbert embraced her, also offering his condolences for her husband who had ironically perished trying to find her two former friends. Hotdog, fresh out of prison on parole, greeted her enthusiastically, however, in contrast to the comical punk she remembered from the old days, the petty criminal now looked solemn and utterly downcast, having lost his two closest friends overnight. When Josie asked him where Fields was, Hotdog told her he too was also long dead, killed in the war, and that he had severed all connections with them years ago anyway, after getting into a feud with Alan over the girl that later became his wife.

Meanwhile, Jamie had walked over to get a better look the other funeral held nearby. There were only two attendees for this Mr Robbins; Joseph Buxton, the bloke who was also paying for Johnson's funeral, was attending, accompanied by none other than Tom Shelton. Jamie frowned in suspicion; what business did he have with this Robbins guy, and, come to think of it, what business did Buxton have, paying for all these funerals? Could this have something to do with what happened to Johnson and his father?

Jamie was just about to build up the courage and ask, when the two men, seeing him watching them, turned and walked away; he watched them as they walked up to a secluded spot by the gate, where Buxton shook Shelton's hand in, what appeared to be, congratulations, before they set off down the road together, looking surprisingly cheerful for two people who had just attended a funeral. Jamie was tempted to try and follow them, to eavesdrop on them, when he heard his mother calling him. They returned home.

Later that evening, with Jamie having retreated to his room without a word, Josie was busy tending to some household chores, desperate for something to take her mind off her sorrows. But no matter how hard she tried, the thought of her husband and the feeling of emptiness his demise caused her - as well as the thought of Alan -, was making her feel utterly miserable. Although, fortunately, she had a good job with a decent income to support them both, as well her husband's insurance, which she would use to pay for her son to go to collage in later years, the impact of her husband's passing would take a long time to overcome. And what kind of impact would this tragedy have on her son?

Kenny had dropped by to offer his own condolences, and offered to stay with the family for the upcoming New Year's Eve. Josie received him warmly as always, and Jamie, although still rather moody and depressed, also welcomed his friend. They ended up spending the whole New Year's evening together, playing games or watching films, as they waited for the countdown to midnight.

It was just past nightfall. The two boys were up in Jamie's room, surfing online on Jamie's laptop. At some point, Kenny brought up the subject they had been discussing a few days back: the mystery surrounding Ken's father and Mr Buxton.

"The day Johnson's plane disappeared, Dad came home happier than I've seen him in a long time; he said something about Buxton would soon by paying him a large sum as part of some business deal he had made with him. He wouldn't say what he was paying him for, and when I tried asking him, he warned me to keep my nose out of his business, the rotter…"

"I saw your father today, Ken," interrupted Jamie, remembering what he had seen at Johnson's funeral, "He was at that guy Johnson's funeral with that old crackpot Buxton. They were burying someone too, a guy called Robbins, I think…"

"Robbins? As in _Russell Robbins_?" asked Ken, recognising a familiar name, "Why, that's the name of one of those dudes who used to meet with Buxton and my father up at the Hall. I overheard my father mention that he was also on that plane when it went down over New Forest... I wonder why his name wasn't on the news that day…? Suddenly, Jamie, influenced by Ken's words, had an epiphany. Glancing out the window, he saw the Aurora, which had been lighting up the night sky for the past few days, had appeared again on the southwestern horizon, over New Forest. Could it be...?

"Ken," he asked, "Do you know where Johnson's plane and Dad's chopper were last seen before they disappeared?" Kenny scratched his head, thinking.

"Well, I remember my father telling the Sheriff that it was somewhere just beyond the edge of the dead zone, I think… Why...?" Suddenly, it all clicked together in Jamie's mind: the Aurora over New Forest, and the plane and the chopper vanishing when flying _into it_... It all pointed to one logical explanation: _the_ _Aurora_ was the key to all these disappearances! Quickly coming up with a plan, he turned to his friend, "Are you up for a little night adventure?"

"What kind of question is that?" asked Ken, rolling his eyes, "How about we go into town and sneak into the movie house for a free film as a New Year's treat? Or maybe shoplift Jerry's sweetshop? We haven't pulled that in a while…" But Jamie had different, far more reckless plans in mind.

"No, let's go and see your father. There is something I want to ask of him…"

Kenny thought his friend had taken leave of his senses, "Go and see my _father_? What the hell for? Have you gone daft, mate? He'd sooner kick you out for disturbing him, than talk to you about anything. Hell, I had to leave the house this afternoon when he came home with a raging temper! Something about Buxton being hospitalised and not paying him first… He's probably so doped up with booze by now, he won't understand a word you tell him anyway…" But Jamie was far from swayed.

"Good, that will make it easier for me to convince him to let me charter the glider for a night flight." Finally realising what his friend had in mind, Kenny stood up, intent on driving this madness out of his friend's head before he did something he'd regret.

"You aren't seriously thinking of going in search of your Dad, are you? That's suicide! What, do you want your mother to bury you next?"

"We don't know if it's suicide," persisted Jamie stubbornly, "They haven't found them, have they? For all we know, they might be stranded out in the Dead Zone somewhere…" Kenny was furious.

"And how exactly do you propose to persuade my father to let you use his prized glider illegally and in the middle of the night?" he asked angrily, "He may not care that much about the law, but if it means putting his neck on the line, as yours will be when your mother finds out, not to mention risk losing the only plane he has left to run the club with, he'll never lend it to you, not in a million years…"

"Not if I _pay him_," Jamie said, coming up with the perfect idea to coax the greedy flight controller into lending him the glider, so he could go and inspect the Aurora up close, "My father's insurance money should do the trick…"

"You're one meal short of a picnic, mate!" snapped Kenny incredulously, shaking his head, "Your mother will kill you when she finds out you decided to bribe my Dad with your father's money for a suicide flight!"

"Then you can always steal it back for me," Jamie said absent-mindedly, rehearsing his plan. It was perfect; he would use his father's insurance money to bribe Shelton for a solo flight on the glider, so he could go up and inspect the Aurora. With Ken's father in such a desperate need of money, Jamie felt sure he could be easily persuaded. As far as he was concerned, this money was worthless to him; he just wanted his father back. Since the authorities had given up the search, it was now up to him.

_Who dares wins,_ he thought, remembering his father's old motto from the SAS, _Nothing ventured, nothing gained_.

After managing to persuade the reluctant Ken to go along with the plan, the two boys crept downstairs. Josie had gone to bed early, feeling too depressed about her husband to care about greeting the upcoming New Year; a box of sleeping pills and a half-empty glass of water sat on the kitchen table, which told Jamie they had the night all to themselves. And lying undisturbed on the sofa in the lounge was the briefcase of money, which his mother had been too upset to take to the bank.

Donning a winter jacket over his jeans and jumper, Jamie took the briefcase, as well as pocketed his father's birthday gifts, which he always carried around with him ever since the accident, he and Ken crept out the front door, locking it behind them using a spare key Jamie had nicked from its hiding place in the kitchen. There wasn't a single soul in sight; everyone was partying down in the town square, a good quarter of a mile away, and wouldn't disturb them.

As they crossed the yard, they were suddenly startled by some loud barking coming from the doghouse; they had completely forgotten about Snitter who was wide-awake and protesting at his young master's departure. Although it hardly mattered, given that his mother was on sedatives and couldn't hear the barking, he knew that the neighbours were bound to quickly start getting annoyed from all this racket, and might send someone over to check things out. And the last thing he needed was for his plan to be ruined before he even got started. Motioning to Ken to keep watch, in case someone came along, he crept back to the house, entering via the back door through the greenhouse infirmary. Snitter was waiting for him, waging his tail happily, thinking they were going for a walk. Fitting on his lead, he rejoined Ken outside and they set off down the road.

The rickety Shelton residence was only around the corner of the street, and five minutes later, they stood on Tom Shelton's dark porch. Motioning to Ken to wait outside with Snitter, Jamie rang the doorbell. Soon, the door swung open revealing the bloodshot-eyed face of Tom Shelton, who stunk like a brewery; no doubt he had hit the bottle again to cool off his temper. And, currently, he wasn't particularly happy to have a visitor come calling.

"What do you mean by calling here at this hour?" he snapped, "If my good-for-nothing son has been up to any mischief again, I'll skin him…!" Ignoring Shelton's grumbling, Jamie explained.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I have a financial proposition for you…" As he had expected, at the very mention of money, Shelton's rage instantly evaporated, "Come again?" Jamie showed him the briefcase containing his father's money, "Oh, well in that case, come in!"

Leading Jamie into the kitchen, which was piled high with unwashed dishes and empty beer cans, he took a seat and turned to Jamie, "Now then, you were saying?" Jamie opened the briefcase, revealing the small fortune within. He watched Shelton's bloodshot eyes shine with greed, his jaw dropping level with the table. Whatever deal this boy wanted to make with him, he'd agree in a heartbeat, if it meant getting a piece of that pie, to make up for Sergey's lost money.

"I wish to charter your glider for a little looksee at the Aurora…_tonight_. Name your price." Tom didn't look at him; he continued to stare dumbstruck at all that beautiful money, as if in a trance. Finally, he found his voice again.

"Here's the deal: You give me this money and the glider is all yours forever!" Whether it was the alcohol talking or just Tom's desperate thirst for money, Jamie didn't know, nor did he care, as he considered the offer. At best, he had hoped to coax Ken's father into letting him fly the glider just for tonight and keep quiet about it; instead, the flight controller was offering to _sell_ it to him in exchange for his father's money. At this point, he could either accept or decline; and if he accepted, there would be no turning back. He would be stuck with the glider of his dreams, but at the expense of his father's life insurance, which could never go unnoticed by his mother…

_Dad would have wanted me to have this glider anyway,_ he thought, remembering his father's promise to buy him that very same glider for his 17th birthday. Turning back to Shelton, with a deep sigh, he said, "Fine, I accept." Without waiting for Jamie to change his mind, Shelton hurried upstairs and returned with a set of keys, which were for the flight club hanger where the glider was stored.

"Have fun, kid! And if you see Ken, tell him he is free of chores for the rest of the holidays! Good night and thanks a million!" Without another word, he grabbed the briefcase as if it were his firstborn child and bolted upstairs, laughing like a maniac, leaving Jamie alone in the kitchen. Taking the keys, he rejoined Ken outside.

"It's _my_ glider now, Ken," he said, showing him the key, "Let's go!" With Ken muttering how Jamie's mother would kill them both when she found out about this tomorrow, the two friends hurried along the snowed-up lane through the fields, taking a shortcut to the flight club, avoiding all traffic. They found the premises dark and deserted; the perfect conditions for an illegal flight, without any fear of being discovered.

Making their way over to the hanger, they unlocked the padlock on the doors and found the glider standing inside beneath its nylon covers, looking good as new. Jamie could feel his heart pounding in excitement; the time had come for him to do or die – with a strong probability on the latter.

They pushed the glider outside and moved it onto the edge of the runway. Jamie opened the plexiglass canopy which shielded the two pilot seats, one behind the other, like in a canoe, each fitted with its own control stick and instrument panel. The battery-powered motor was mounted on a retractable mast fitted in the tail shaft. A parachute pack lay on each seat, for an emergency bailout. All was ready.

Jamie climbed in and seated himself in the forward seat, securing his parachute and seatbelt, just as his father had taught him. Ken was about to hop into the back but Jamie stopped him, "I'm going alone. This way, if something happens to me, you can tell my mother what I did…" Kenny, as he expected, wasn't the least keen to oblige.

"Like hell I will! We're in this together! And I don't want to have to be the one explaining to your mother that I let you talk me into helping you get yourself killed! She'll never forgive me…!"

"This is something I have to do, Ken," Jamie insisted, his mind made up, "You aren't a part of this, so nobody can hold it against you. Besides, I need someone here to guide me over the radio." Ken groaned in exasperation, and finally shook his friend's hand, wishing him luck – or rather bidding him farewell, figuring he would most likely be dead very soon.

"Take care, mate. You bring yourself back alive or I'll kill you myself!" Jamie couldn't suppress a snort of amusement as his friend turned and hurried to the control shack to power up the radio and radar. Jamie shut the canopy securely, preparing for take-off.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, which were close to breaking point with the insanity of what he was about to do, he started his pre-flight check. Turning on the master switch, the panel lights instantly sprang to life, the instruments displaying normal readings. The power level gauge read the batteries as fully charged. He was good to go. Switching on the GPS and radio, he tested communications, "Ken, do you read me, over?" After a few seconds, he heard his friend's voice on the other end.

"_Loud and clear, mate; we have a link-up. I am lighting up the runway lights now."_ Seeing the lights on the runway come to life, Jamie cranked up the motor mast and hit the starter switch, starting up the glider's engine; he heard the prop start spinning at a fast and steady pace above his head. Taking a deep breath, he grasped the brake release lever, preparing to release. _Here we go…_

Releasing the parking brakes, he felt the glider start to move forward, gathering speed as it went. Jamie grasped the stick firmly, feeling nervous; this was the first time he was piloting the glider solo and wasn't sure how well he could manage with only a dozen or so lessons. Before he could change his mind and abort the take-off however, the glider had left the ground, soaring up into the sky.

Jamie cringed as he struggled to keep the glider under control, his father's instructions sharp in his mind. Although the glider seemed to be performing well, this was still his first solo flight, and in the dark of night nonetheless, making him prone to a panic attack. Struggling to banish the fearful thoughts of what might happen if he got something wrong, he spoke into his radio, "All right, Ken, give me a heading."

On the ground, Ken, who was watching the radar screen, which was tracking the glider's transponder signal on the digital map, gave him directions, _"Okay mate, you're now heading north; turn round to heading 260 and line up with the Aurora."_

Griping the stick firmly, Jamie carefully turned the aircraft around on a southwesterly course, heading towards New Forest, where the Aurora was. Suddenly, he was startled by something wet nuzzling him in the neck; he had forgotten all about Snitter, who had stowed away onto the glider by jumping onto the empty back seat, while the two boys had been arguing. Although feeling rather reproachful towards his dog for following him up here, consequently adding more unnecessary weight to the glider, it still was of some comfort to Jamie to have a familiar face up here with him, as he patted his canine friend on the head.

Gently pulling back on the control stick, he set course for the Aurora in the distance. Time seemed to slow down with every passing minute, as he felt himself start to sweat with anticipation. What would happen when he flew into the Aurora? What was on the other side of it? Maybe it would instantly vaporize him and his glider?

As he flew along, he slowly became more comfortable with handling the glider on his own. The experience could only be described as wonderful; a sense of freedom overcame him, just like his father had told him it was like on his first flight.

Soon, he was only a few hundred yards away from the Aurora. Up this close, he could now see it was amazingly low in the sky, much like a curtain of transparent, rainbow-coloured ribbons floating in mid-air, seemingly harmless. Fascinated by the sight, he spoke into his radio again, "Ken, I am going to fly right through that thing and see what happens. Make sure you keep tracking me all the time…"

"_Dude, I am telling you that's a stupid idea! Turn that thing around while you still can, and come back! And I think Snitter might be up there with you…"_ But Jamie had removed his headset, tired of listening to more of his friend's pleas; he had come too far to turn back now.

Gripping the stick firmly, he adjusted his course, so that he was facing directly towards the heart of the Aurora. Punching the throttle to full power, he flew straight into those magnificent, transparent ribbons of rainbow light. At first, nothing happened, making him think he might have been wrong after all, and it had all been for nothing…

As he turned to check his heading again, he noticed his compass was spinning like a top; all the instruments on the panel had suddenly gone wild. Jamie grew tense, _I was right; there is something going on up here…_ Hurryingly, he put his headset back on, "Ken, something's happening; my instruments are all dancing. I think it might be the Aurora… Ken? Ken, can you still hear me? Ken!" His radio had also gone dead; even the motor had stopped, as if drained of its power. But nothing could have prepared him for what followed next.

Looking out the canopy, he saw the sky start to _move_; the moon and the stars were spinning through their quarters; it was like watching time in speed mode on a computer simulator or in a science-fiction film, only this was very real. Jamie watched in amazement as the sun rose on the eastern horizon, completing its arc in mere seconds before setting again in the west. The process continued repeating itself over and over again, going faster and faster, until the sky became a blinking twilight. The glider was swallowed into a deep vortex as the Aurora engulfed him. Violent turbulence shook the glider, nearly breaking up the fuselage, as he was sucked down into an endless void… And then it was over, as quickly as it had started; the glider was spat out on the far side of the Aurora…where?

A dazed and shaken Jamie looked around him; he was still airborne, both he and his dog were unharmed, and the glider appeared undamaged. His instruments were all up and running again; only his radio remained dead, as well as the GPS clipped to his control panel, which had gone blank, giving him a satellite uplink failure warning. Then, he realised, to his utmost bewilderment, it was no longer night but _day_. What had happened? Where had the Aurora brought him?

The afternoon sky was bright, with a few scattered clouds. He could see the ground some 8,000ft below, but something was very wrong. Everything had…_changed_. Where there should have been a radioactive dead zone, overrun by snow, now there was an endless stretch of thick, unattended woodland, resembling a jungle. This wasn't New Forest! Trying to reassure Snitter, which had gone wild from the ride, Jamie couldn't help but wonder, "Is this what happened to Dad…?"

Meanwhile, back at the flight club, Ken was seated at the control station normally occupied by Stan Hallows, handling the radio and radar best he could, all the while muttering how stupid it was what he and his friend were doing, and the consequences that were bound to come of it when their parents found out.

Suddenly, as he watched Jamie's signal move across the blank patch of static on radar screen, which was the Aurora, it began to flicker as if the glider's beacon signal wasn't being transmitted properly any more. Something was interfering. Then he heard his friend's voice, confirming he was having the same trouble, _"Ken, something is happening; my instruments are all dancing. I think it might be the Aurora…"_ Then the voice died away and there was only static.

Ken froze in terror. No, this couldn't have happened! Not Jamie! Springing up from his chair, he grabbed the microphone, bellowing, "Jamie, get the hell out of there now! Jamie, can you hear me? Jamie, please!" But there was only silence. Ken sunk to his knees, realising the dying signal had been his friend's glider vanishing, just like it had happened with the Cessna and the Air Force chopper. At that moment, a clock on the wall struck midnight; the New Year had arrived, but Ken felt anything but in the mood for celebration.

**Author's notes:** Coming up next, the beginning of Jamie's adventures in the future. I remind you, this is all happening in parallel with the first story, so don't get confused! The time Jamie comes out is set four days after Alan came through in the first story. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	5. Chapter 5 A Mouse and a New World

**March 14****th**** 2791 **

Jamie stared in bewilderment at the changed world beneath him as he flew his glider back the way he had come, trying to find his way back to the flight club visually. After flying through the Aurora and encountering that strange force, he had come out the other side, only to find an incredible surprise. At worst, he had expected to encounter some catastrophic force that would have instantly torn him and his glider to pieces; instead, the _whole world_ had been turned upside-down…or so it seemed. With his radio and GPS still out of action, he was left with only his onboard magnetic instruments and his wits to help him get down safely.

Concentrating on his flight path, he turned the glider around 180 degrees, retracing his course backwards, towards Newtown. As it had inexplicably turned daylight after he had passed through the Aurora, he now had the advantage of visual contact; only, as he tried to spot any familiar landmarks to guide him back, he couldn't see anything familiar. The ground, all the way out to the horizon, had changed completely.

Where there should have been scattered patches of woodland, amidst farms and ploughed fields, now there was a thick jungle-like landscape, with scattered patches of meadow here and there; all traces of civilisation had seemingly ceased to exist. An endless and untouched wilderness stretched out in every direction, without the faintest trace of roads, electrical pylons, or even towns. To add to all this mystery, even the seasons had shifted; what had been a calm winter night, with the countryside overrun by snow, was now a warm sunny day, with the countryside in full bloom, in, what appeared to be, mid-spring.

"Where the hell am I?" Jamie asked himself, staring in bewilderment at the changed world. So far, the only familiar landmarks visible were the Enborne River to the south, as well as a few familiar hills to the north, neither of which were of much use in navigating by sight and without a GPS. To make matters worse, he saw he was quickly exhausting the glider's batteries; being a first-time pilot, with only some rudimentary training, he had the bad habit of using his motor too much. Normally, only intended for take-off and landing or to correct occasional stalls, with his inexperience, he was draining the power like water through a sieve.

Even as he stared at his gages, he saw the power levels had already dropped by one-third; at this rate, another half-hour and the batteries would be dead...and so would _he_, unless he could find some place to land and soon. And the flight club was nowhere to be seen.

As he scanned the unfamiliar terrain for an alternate landing sight, something interesting caught his eye: up ahead, around where the flight club was supposed to be, he saw a grey patch of scorched earth, which, from afar, resembled the aftermath of a recent forest fire. As he flew over it, he saw that the trees were barren and scorched, confirming that they had indeed been incinerated in a blaze, which had mysteriously only spread within a range of a few hundred yards, despite the thick surrounding woodland. Some sort of blown-up wreckage lay in the middle, burnt beyond recognition, testifying to the cause of the fire. Jamie's heart skipped a beat as he realised what he was seeing.

"That's a crash site! But is it Johnson or Dad's?" Although delighted to have finally found something indicating that he was indeed on the right trail, he couldn't help but fear that maybe he was already too late. He had heard many stories of plane crashes, where survival was very unlikely; and anyone who had been onboard that crashed chopper down there, must have undoubtedly died in the explosion.

For an instant, Jamie was tempted to try and land the glider on that plain, which had been cleared of vegetation by the fire, so he could go and investigate; but then he noticed the ground around the crash site was uneven, filled with trenches and collapsed trees, making any landing there impossible. Sighing in exasperation, he pulled up, his eyes feverishly scanning the surrounding area for an alternate favourable landing site, all the while carefully memorizing the direction to the crash site, when he would have to walk back there after landing.

As he made for a nearby meadow, hoping to find some flat ground, deprived of any thick vegetation, he suddenly caught sight of a bird hovering over the trees, about a mile to his ten o'clock. Jamie had done lots of bird watching before, and could distinguish between species; only this was something new. From afar it looked like an ordinary hawk; but, measured against the trees in the background, it looked incredibly big, almost as if he was observing it up close, rather than a mile away.

As he watched it, trying to decide if it was a mere optical illusion or not, he saw the creature dive towards the ground and snatch something; he caught a glimpse of a figure bolting from the scene for cover, which, from afar, looked like a rabbit, only much larger than any rabbit Jamie had ever seen before. He watched the hawk take flight again, amidst a distant scream that seemed to be getting closer…It was only then that Jamie realised, while he had been sidetracked, he hadn't been watching where he was going; and he was flying straight into the path of the hawk!

Before he could make an evasive turn, both hawk and glider met on a head-on collision. Jamie had a second to realize that, what he had mistaken for an optical illusion was in fact, nothing less than a flying monster, almost the size of his _glider_, before a plumage of dark feathers struck his windshield. The glider's nose found the unsuspecting hawk, which had been paying the aircraft no heed, straight in the abdomen. The bird of prey shrieked in surprise by the violent impact, its bedpost-thick legs, with claws as long and sharp as sabres, snapping irritably. The creature flapped its wings wildly as it flew over the glider and into the clear.

His heart pounding a mile a minute, and with Snitter thrashing madly about in the back seat, Jamie managed to level out the glider before it could go into a stall. Despite the violent collision, the glider hadn't sustained any structural damage; even the windshield, which was made of unbreakable Plexiglas, was still intact, other than a few scratches from the hawk's talons. Then he heard it again; the scream, which sounded almost human, coming from right over his shoulder.

Turning round, he saw Snitter had already found the source: clinging to the radio antenna fixed on the transparent cockpit cover was some sort of small creature, which resembled a ferret in size. Undoubtedly, it was the prey the hawk had snatched off the ground, only to drop it when the glider had slammed into it; now the creature was clinging on for dear life, the furious wind turbulence caused by the swift-moving glider threatening to sweep it off into a deadly fall.

Just as Jamie was tempted to reach over his shoulder to try and help, something that would have been impossible given that the cockpit cover couldn't open in flight, unless if it meant bailing out in an emergency, he realised too late that, for the second time, he had lost concentration while flying. Turning back to his windshield, he saw, with a gasp of horror, a tall tree dead ahead, with his glider heading straight towards it on a collision course!

In an instant of panic, he pulled back on the stick as far as it would go, and hit the thrust button for an emergency ascent. Unfortunately, as he had done countless of times before during flying lessons with his father, in his panic and confusion, he misjudged his rate of climb; the glider rose for an instant, as it strained to gain altitude with its nose at such a narrow angle, and then Jamie saw his altimeter and speedometer dip, as the glider went into a stall.

Before he could even try and level out again, he was thrown violently forward into his control panel, as the glider crash-landed into the treetop. Snagged by the exposed branches, it stuck fast, perched on the top of tall pine tree, like the star on a Christmas tree. For an instant, he expected the glider to tilt over the tree and crash to the ground, but it stayed where it was.

Soon the stars cleared from his vision, letting him get back his bearings, as he nursed the lump on his head, with Snitter licking him in the neck in reassurance. Then he remembered the creature that had been clinging to the antenna. Turning round, he saw the antenna had been uprooted from its socket; the creature had been swept off in the stall, and probably ground into mincemeat by the prop… But then he heard it again; not just a scream this time but _words_ in a squeaky, feminine voice, "Help me! Somebody help me!"

Unfastening his seatbelt and parachute pack, he turned and saw the creature again, clinging to the tip of the rudder, about to fall. Although Jamie felt as if he was losing his mind, realising that this creature, whatever it was, was actually _talking_, now that he no longer had had to worry about keeping the glider under control, he was determined to help. Opening up the cockpit lid, letting the breeze ventilate out the sweat and dog-breath stench that had built up inside the cockpit, he crawled onto the back seat, over Snitter, and out onto the fuselage.

Positioning himself against motor assembly, he reached over the prop towards the tail. He could now see that the creature, which he had mistaken for a ferret, was actually a field mouse, only much larger than any field mouse Jamie had ever seen before, almost the size of a giant rat. The poor creature was almost beside herself with fear as she desperately held onto the starboard elevator fin, a fear that only seemed to intensify a hundred-fold as she caught sight of Jamie reaching out for her.

With a squeal of terror, she let go, or rather lost her grip on the glider; it was only thanks to Jamie lunging forward in the nick of time and catching her by the tail, with Snitter supporting his master by his trouser leg, that saved her from a deadly fall. Grasping the terrified mouse firmly, he managed to crawl back into the safety of his seat. As he slid his legs back in, he felt the glider move with his weight; for an instant, he thought it was about to plummet to the ground but it didn't.

Motioning to the excited Snitter to sit still, to avoid further disturbances, Jamie turned to get a better look at the giant mouse on his lap. The small creature (as far as small goes when enlarged almost ten times its normal size) was battered and in shock from the hawk attack, as well from the sight of her new captor, yet made no attempt to escape.

"Are…are you hurt?" he asked, feeling rather stupid by trying to talk to a _mouse_. For a moment he thought she wouldn't answer and that he had only _imagined_ her talking, but then, to his utmost amazement, she spoke again, "Are you…are you going to eat me?" Although rather squeaky, her voice was a loud and clear Lancashire accent, in perfect English. Jamie could also see, aside from her large size and inexplicable ability of speech, she looked unlike any other mouse he had ever seen before, with near-human facial expressions, almost like an anthropomorphised cartoon figure, only real flesh and blood.

"Wh…? Of course not! I was only trying to help you…" he replied, gently patting her on the head in reassurance, all the while wondering in the back of his mind if he was going mad. Although the mouse seemed to be slowly regaining her confidence, she still seemed uneasy of the human holding her in a firm grip as she muttered, "Ithel hunt mice… And how in Frith's name can you talk? I thought ithel couldn't speak Hedgerow…"

"I was about to ask you the very same question," Jamie said raising an eyebrow, "I thought _animals_ can't talk…Ow! What was that for?" he groaned as she suddenly clawed him on the nose; although only a small superficial scratch, her sudden fiery temper had caught him by surprise.

"Never call me an 'animal'!" the mouse snapped indignantly, unsheathing her small claws, "It is most insulting! I am a _mouse_ and very proud of it too!" Jamie wiped his scratched nose on his sleeve, "I will try to keep that in mind. What's your name then? Mine's Jamie."

"I am called Hannah," replied the mouse pleasantly, her anger already forgotten, "Thanks for saving me ithe; I thought I was dead meat for that… ELIL!" she suddenly screeched, pointing over Jamie's shoulder at Snitter, who, irritated at not getting any attention, was kneeling over for a closer look at the strange creature with whom his master was so intimate. Jamie turned round surprised, but burst out laughing when he saw Snitter trying to crawl over his shoulder to sniff at Hannah, "Relax, it's okay. This is Snitter; he is harmless."

"Harmless? I say he looks a little too interested in me!" Hannah replied nervously, wriggling out of his hands and backing away until she was flat against the control panel. She curled up as Snitter reached out to sniff her, thinking the dog was about to start chomping away at her. Her nervous whimpering dissolved into hysterical giggles as Snitter's nose caressed her all over, tickling her. Jamie smiled in amusement, watching her squeal, "I told you his bark is worse than his bite, didn't I?"

"Point taken," shrieked Hannah, amidst her guffaws of laughter, "Make him stop, I can't breathe!" Finally, the dog, satisfied that he had had his sniff of the strange little creature, relented, and Hannah relaxed on Jamie's lap, panting heavily, yet having regained her confidence for her two new friends. It was then that Jamie noticed the bloodstain on his hand; Hannah had a nasty cut on her side, courtesy of the hawk's death grip. The mouse had noticed as well, as she placed her paws over it, wincing in pain.

"So how do we get down from here?"

Turning back to his radio, Jamie tried to reach the flight club again, hoping maybe the glitch had been fixed, "Ken, can you hear me? I have crashed in a tree and I can't get down! I need you to call the Fire Brigade and have someone track down my beacon signal… Ken!" But then he remembered the antenna had been broken off.

"All right, let's try another way," he said, taking out his cell phone. Hannah watched in fascination, yet with utter confusion at Jamie's gadgets, "I have never seen the like; what kind of magic is this? This…wooden bird you fly, and all these…_talking_ gadgets? Are you a Hedge Wizard or something? Is that how you can talk and think like me?" Although Jamie didn't have a clue what a Hedge Wizard was, let alone explain Hannah's abilities of speech and intelligence, he currently wasn't interested as he discovered another problem. Although his brand-new phone was up and running, the signal strength indicator lay steadily at zero, unable to establish any satellite uplink.

Hoping it was only a false reading, he dialled his home number, but his phone only gave him an attempting-to-dial-the-number sign, followed by an unable-to-connect warning. In a desperate attempt, he even resorted to hitting the phone's SOS number, which also didn't reach anywhere. Even the Internet and GPS applications had all inexplicably gone out of service, almost as if the entire outside world had suddenly ceased to exist. Tired of trying, he put the phone away to stop wasting its battery pointlessly. He still had the glider's distress beacon, but he doubted it would do any better than his radio or phone. With a sigh of disappointment, he realised he was on his own.

Glancing over the edge, he saw that climbing down was out of the question; the branches of the tree were too thin or too far apart, and even if he was an experienced tree climber, Snitter would never be able to make it down, and he couldn't just leave him up here. Going through his pockets for anything useful, he found only his house keys, a fistful of change left over from his pocket money, some gum, his Swiss Army knife, and his SAS survival guide, none of which presented any means of getting down. For an instant, he was tempted to try and jump using his parachute, with Snitter and Hannah strapped to him, but never having used a parachute in his life, and unsure whether or not he was high enough for a safe jump, the idea hardly appealed to him.

Finally, deciding to try the glider's ELT as a last resort, he started searching the cockpit; he remembered his father mentioning that it was stored in the onboard emergency kit. Crawling aft again, he reached into the tail shaft, behind the back seat; there he found an orange nylon package (emergency equipment colour marking) tucked in the back seat pocket. Picking it up, he crawled back into his seat and undid the zipper, opening it up on his lap, to examine its contents carefully.

It didn't take him long to realise that Tom Shelton had been rather stingy in equipping his glider with emergency equipment, as the package contained but a cheap, standard survival kit, with only the minimum essentials required in an emergency. There was a tiny first aid pouch containing a dozen band-aids, a box of aspirins, several sterile pads, a few cotton compressors, and a tube of antiseptic cream. As for tools, there were only a couple of glowsticks, a small LED flashlight, a single distress flare, and finally, the walkie-talkie-sized emergency locator beacon.

Removing the distress transmitter from its pocket and extending its aerial, Jamie flipped the activation switch to on; a red light began flashing as the beacon emitted a series of steady repeating beeps, broadcasting its distress signal out on the air. Although there was no way of knowing if anyone out there could hear it, it gave Jamie a sense of hope. Meanwhile, Hannah was curiously going through the other contents of the kit, utterly fascinated by the strange gadgets; she jolted back in surprise as the flashlight she was examining suddenly lit up in her face. Noticing her wounds, he opened up the first aid and took out a couple of band-aids.

"All right, let's see what we can do about those scratches." Laying her down on his lap, he applied the band-aid on the cut, closing it up. Hannah smiled as she felt the band-aid stick to her like a leech, its sterile pad easing up the stinging sensation.

"Thanks Jamie, that feels much better," she said, climbing up onto the boy's shoulder, nuzzling him in gratitude. Jamie responded by tickling his little friend on the nose, as he put the distress transmitter aside and sat back, to wait and hope someone would come.

Suddenly, just as he was about to try his phone again, Snitter started barking in a restless manner, jumping up and down in his seat. Jamie turned, expecting to see a rescue coming for him, and gasped in fear. The hawk he had hit earlier, the one that had nearly devoured Hannah, was coming back to renew the attack. With nowhere to run, Jamie barely managed to shut the cockpit cover before the flying monster was upon them again.

Its massive beak snapping furiously, the giant monster swooped down on the immobilised glider, intent on retrieving its prey hiding inside. Hannah shrieked in terror, hiding under the hood of Jamie's jacket as two sets of razor-sharp claws clamped down hard on the glider roof, the hawk furiously struggling to tare its way in; although the shatterproof plexiglas of the cockpit was keeping it at bay, the monster had enough muscle power to rock the glider too and fro, threatening to push it over the edge of the tree…

Seeing an imminent and potentially deadly plummet to the ground, Jamie did the only thing that came to mind: hurryingly turning back to his control panel, he hit the thrust button, causing the electric motor to spring back to life. The razor-sharp blades of the prop started spinning again, grazing the unsuspecting hawk in the plumage.

The hawk screeched as a patch of its feathers was obliterated by the prop and took flight again, abandoning its attack. But, unfortunately, the damage had been done; no sooner had the hawk let go of the glider, than the nose tilted downwards, as it slid off the edge of the tree, plummeting straight towards the ground. Jamie, Hannah and Snitter all screamed in unison as they fell through the branches, the glider bumping its way downwards like a bicycle going down a flight of stairs. Then, it levelled out as it found an incline at the foot of the tree formed by the massive roots, continued sliding forward for a bit, until it encountered an obstacle and stopped dead.

Jamie shakily opened his eyes, having tucked his head between his knees when he had felt his glider fall; the second he had seen the ground rushing up to meet them, he had braced, expecting a violent impact to crush him and his companions; instead, the fall that had followed had only been a bumpy descent, the larger branches on the lower end of the tree having slowed down the fall. Staring up above his head, he could see most of the branches on his side of the tree had been twisted and broken from where the glider had dropped through them, mowing down everything it its path. The hawk that had attacked them was gone.

Cautiously opening up the cockpit cover, in case the hawk returned for another attack, Jamie saw, by a complete stroke of luck, they had made it to the ground unharmed. The branches of the tree had slowed down their otherwise deadly fall when the glider had slid down the side, as well as causing it to level out at the right moment rather than letting it come down in a nose dive, which would have otherwise dashed it to pieces and them with it. Looking over the side, he saw he had landed in some sort of soft and mushy substance, which resembled mud.

After he had calmed down somewhat, Jamie slowly climbed out of the cockpit; Snitter was the first to jump out of the glider, eager of to get out of that small, cramped space. As he turned to inspect his glider, expecting to find it wrecked from the fall, he found, aside from some scratches and smears on the paint, as well as a shattered navigation light on the starboard wing, the glider still looked flyable. Then he realised that the 'mud' he had landed in was actually a patch of mushrooms, which had creating a soft, cushioning paste that had shielded his glider from serious damage. Picking up one that hadn't been squashed, his eyes widened as he realised it was the size of a bowler hat. It seemed that aside from the animals, much of the flora had also turned gigantic.

_What the heck has happened to the world?_ Jamie thought to himself, finally realising that the world, as he knew it, had, without any further doubt, completely changed. The surrounding woodland looked completely unfamiliar to him and he supposedly knew these parts well, from many camping trips he had made with his father. This wasn't a case of encountering a giant hawk and a talking mouse that had seemingly appeared out of the blue, as he had originally assumed; the fact was that the _entire world_ had inexplicably been reshaped the moment he had flown through that mysterious Aurora apparently. But how could the Aurora have changed everything but leaving him unharmed? There was no logic as to what was going on.

Then he remembered the chopper crash site he had spotted earlier; maybe, in spite of his mysterious situation, he was finally close to finding his father? Then again, would he find him alive or dead? His thoughts were interrupted by Hannah, who had finally emerged from his pocket and was standing on his shoulder, "Ah, back on wonderful ground again. What a relief! So, what do we do now, Jamie?"

Jamie considered for a moment; with the time zones shifted, it was already late afternoon and it would be nightfall in a few hours. Although the logical solution would be to stay put, in case help arrived, after the encounter with the hawk, as well as the realisation that apparently the entire world had morphed into a wilderness of giant monsters, the idea of spending the night out here in the open hardly appealed to him. He had to find shelter somewhere for the night, preferably not inside his glider. Sure enough, Hannah scratched him behind the ear to regain his attention.

"It is not safe to be out here after dark; the deadliest of elil wake at every Inle rise to hunt. How would you like to stay with me at my home?"

"I'd like that very much Hannah, but surely your den isn't, you know, a little small for my size?" asked Jamie, stammering, weary of insulting her again and causing her to lose her temper. However, instead of receiving another clawing on the nose, the mouse, probably amused by his uneasiness, only giggled, "I don't live in a _den_; my family and I have been living with rabbits in their warren since I was born. That place should be able to accommodate an ithe your size. Besides, you saved my life today; I am sure I can persuade the Chieftess to repay the favour in kind...hopefully."

"Thanks, I'd like that very much…Hang on! Did you say a warren big enough to suit _my_ size? You mean to tell me that rabbits here are as big as _me_?" Jamie gasped, realising what Hannah had just said. The mouse looked astonished, "Of course they are, silly! What, haven't you ever seen a rabbit before? Where in Frith's name do you come from anyway?"

"Crazy as it sounds, I am from right here," replied Jamie, "I live in the village of Newtown Common with my parents. My father went searching for a missing person a few days ago and disappeared; I came looking for him and instead I find all of this. I suppose you haven't seen a talking human before?" Hannah shook her head.

"No, all the humans I have ever seen are nothing but wild and savage…."

"Surely you don't mean _me_?" Jamie asked, raising his eyebrows, giving Hannah a playful poke. The mouse only giggled, "No, of course not! The humans I know are monstrous big and can't even talk. But we should get moving; the owls will be out soon."

After securing the glider best he could, but leaving the distress transmitter running to attract attention, Jamie picked up his survival kit and the rest of his belongings, called to Snitter who had been sniffing around, and they set off. A human and his dog, led by a talking mouse, made their way towards Hannah's home, the warren of Thinial.

**Author's note:** Jamie's adventures begin! Coming up next, Jamie, Hannah and Snitter arrive at Thinial. For those who have read my first story, Thinial was infected with White Blindness caused by Woundwort, and became a quarantine colony for infected rabbits, including some from Sandleford. Enjoy and please review!


	6. Chapter 6 Unexpected Hero

Jamie and Snitter made their way through the forest, heading towards Hannah's home. With the scratch on her left haunch still sore, making it difficult for her to walk, instead of walking, the mouse had hitched a ride on the boy's shoulders. With her riding in his jacket hood like a kangaroo joey in its mother's pouch, while whispering directions in his ear, Jamie led the way.

Despite his fascination with the changed world he had found himself in, Jamie didn't take long to realise how difficult it was trekking through this wilderness unprepared. Although he had some past experience from all the camping trips with his father, he was hardly prepared for such a walk, with his blue jeans, sports jumper and trainers, which were obviously only meant for street walking rather than muddy, overgrown terrain.

Within minutes, his shoes were a pair of mud pies, his clothes all shredded and covered in thorns and weeds. Even Snitter, although intrigued by all the new scents of this strange place, was also having a hard time with all the brambles snagging his freshly groomed fur without end. Jamie finally found a solution to the problem by cutting a long, stout stick into a staff and using it to brush the thick undergrowth aside as they walked along.

After about an hour of quiet walking, they came to the Enborne River; or at least, what Jamie believed to be the same river where he and his father would often go canoeing or fishing on weekends. Like the rest of the countryside, the river, although still recognisable, had swollen in volume overnight, reaching almost the size of the Thames. Bending down for a drink, Jamie also realised the water, which normally had the faint flavour of oil from pollution, was now as clean as an untouched natural spring with a strong taste of iron; a perfect means for good digestion, according to his mother.

"Thinial is further downriver. I was walking along here with a friend and we foolishly wandered away from the river and came to a clearing in the woods; that's where I got snatched away…" Hannah muttered, suddenly remembering, " Oh Frith, I hope someone came looking for Rosebud; she'll never be able to find her way back to the warren on her own..." the mouse said, suddenly sounding alarmed. Jamie frowned in confusion.

"I thought rabbits had a fantastic sense of smell and could find their way back to their warren with little trouble; at least that's what my mother says anyway. She's a veterinarian you know, that's an…animal healer of sorts. Hannah? What's the matter?" All of a sudden, Hannah's excited attitude had turned sad and worried. As Jamie took her up into his hands to comfort her, she explained.

"The warren where I live is a quarantine colony," she said, "The rabbits there are surviving victims of a terrible plague that swept the Meadows of Fenlo long ago. The White Blindness took away the eyesight and sense of smell of hrair individuals; those that survived the initial outbreak ended holed up at Thinial, blind and helpless." Jamie frowned, realising what this 'White Blindness' was, having seen it many times before from patients in his mother's infirmary.

"That's the _Myxomatosis_ virus you're talking about; my mother regularly vaccinates pet rabbits, to keep them immune from the disease. But, anyway, how do you come into the picture? I mean, no offence, but living in a plague warren, isn't it a little…extreme?"

"It is depressing," Hannah admitted, "My family weren't born there however; we had our own den not too far from here. Then, one day, when I was still a pinkie, we were driven out by a swarm of invading rats. My father Jonathan, injured in the attack, was soon picked off by an owl, along with my siblings Timothy, Martin, Teresa and Cynthia. My mother Brisby and I made it to Thinial, where she became a guide-mouse for the blind, in exchange for food and shelter. I took over her duties after she passed away, which is how I earn my keep to this day." At this point, Jamie finally realised the cause of his little friend's concern; it was her blind companion, who had been left on her own after Hannah had been snatched away, leaving her lost out there with no way to get back.

"Then we have to find your friend," he said, "A blind and scentless rabbit won't last long out here without help. Do you remember where you got separated?" Hannah thought hard for a moment; mostly because of her small size, being snatched away by a hawk and then dumped onto Jamie's glider in mid-flight, had made her lose all sense of direction.

"Well," Hannah, struggling to think, "we were walking along the riverbank somewhere around here. Rosebud is the ward of the Chieftess, whom is entrusted into my care. Being young, she likes making the most of life despite her disability, the foolish girl. Because of her blindness, our Chieftess, Flyairth had ordered her to always follow the same route along the riverbank, so she could find her way back alone in an emergency. Anyway, she begged me to take her a little ways into the woods today, away from the river. I don't know what got into me and let her persuade me to take her off the trail. If something's happened to her, I'll never forgive myself. Oh Frith…" she muttered, holding back tears of shame and worry.

"It's all right Hannah," Jamie reassured his friend, holding her close to comfort her, "We all tend to go above the rules every once in a while; that hawk could have gotten you anywhere out here…" Unfortunately, Hannah was far from reassured that she was not to blame.

"If I had insisted we stay on the trail, as per the rules of her training, she could have waited for help to arrive. If she's lost, she'll never find her way home and nobody back at the warren can help her, if they can't see or even smell her! And I don't even remember exactly where I lost her! Frith, what have I done…?" Seeing her close to tears again, Jamie held her close to comfort her, "Hush, I know just the guy for the job."

Turning to Snitter, he saw his faithful dog had already picked up a scent; sure enough, bending down, he saw, what he knew were, Hannah and Rosebud's paw prints in the mud along the riverbank. A little way further down, they turned and headed into the woods, straight towards the clearing where they had run foul of the hawk, just as Jamie had seen from his glider. Thinking back, he could vaguely remember seeing that rabbit, which he hadn't been able to recognise because of her enlarged size, flee, while the hawk had carried Hannah away, dropping her onto his lap.

"If we can get Snitter to pick up your trail, he might lead us straight to the place," Jamie said, thinking up a plan, "Hopefully, she might not have panicked and stayed put where you got separated. Your trail should lead us straight to her…" he paused, realising that even if they could make their way back to the attack point, Snitter wouldn't know which trail to follow, since he didn't know Rosebud's scent. Unless…

"Hannah, when you were with Rosebud, did you touch her, ride on her back, or do anything that might have left her scent on you?"

"Well, I do ride on her back most of the time, giving her directions, unless we are following an unfamiliar trail – like today -, when she holds onto my tail, until she has memorized the new route. Why, do I smell like a rabbit or something?" the mouse replied indignantly, probably thinking Jamie was pulling her leg. She was caught by surprise when Jamie suddenly placed her close to Snitter's nose for another sniff.

"Hey, what in Frith's name are you doing? No, stop that! I can't stand it!" she squealed, as Snitter sniffed her all over again, tickling her. Ignoring her protests, Jamie kept it up.

"Good boy Snitter! You smell that? Good, now I need you to find it! You understand me, boy? Go, boy, go!" he said, trying a trick his father had taught Snitter, to sniff out hambones they would hide around the house. Although not as good as Snitter knowing Rosebud's actual scent, maybe the traces she had left on the mouse would work as a homing beacon for Snitter's sense of smell, if she hadn't wondered too far away. The dog seemed to understand his master's plan as he soon picked up the trail on the riverbank, following it through the woods. The tracks soon disappeared in the thick undergrowth, leaving only the scent, which was only traceable to Snitter's powerful sense of smell, for them to follow.

Soon, they came to a meadow; the place where Jamie had seen Hannah and Rosebud being attacked by the hawk. Suddenly, his foot kicked something artificial in the grass. Bending down, he picked up a black, metal fragment, which he recognised as the broken radio antenna from his glider, which had been knocked off in the collision. A few yards away, in the shadows of the trees, were some patches of broken earth, looking as if, whoever had left the trail had suddenly burst into a run, apparently in a state of panic. The three companions could see Rosebud's tracks zigzagging, indicating she had been running blindly about, trying to coordinate herself without the help of her guide-mouse. The tracks led back to the edge of the meadow and disappeared into the thick foliage, heading back in the direction of the river…more or less.

"Looks like she tried to double back on her own; although she's isn't completely retracing her steps, she's still heading back towards the river alright," Jamie said, realising that the doe, unable to see or smell her way back, had instead resorted to her only remaining sense: her _hearing_, which was greatly enhanced by her long-term blindness, gave her a good advantage. In contrast to Hannah, who only had a normal, healthy mouse's sense of hearing, Rosebud's, which was at least twice as sensitive, could pinpoint the way back to the riverbank by listening to the sound of the water in the distance.

Suddenly, Hannah, who had also been sniffing around in the undergrowth for her friend's trail, gave a gasp of terror as she picked up another scent, "Frith of Inle, please don't let it be what I think it is…"

"What's the matter?" asked Jamie, bending for a closer look. He could see Hannah had found another trail left by another unknown creature, which joined Rosebud's, apparently following her. At first glance, it seemed of little importance, as the tracks were incredibly small, hardly bigger than Hannah's. It was only the mouse's response that made Jamie realise the problem.

"Rat! There is a rat after Rosebud!" she shrieked in horror, "Those foul creatures are always terrorising the warren; biting and tormenting rabbits out on silflay, who can't drive them off because of their blindness and lack of scent…" They were suddenly caught off-guard by a fearful scream that filled the air, coming from the direction of the river. Jamie turned to Hannah, "Sounds like there's trouble! Come on!"

The trio hurried back towards the river, heading in the direction of the scream. Snitter, who seemed to sense the urgency of the situation, was already running up ahead, his superior speed giving him an advantage over his master and Hannah. Soon, he had vanished through the foliage and out of sight. Then, Jamie and Hannah heard it; the scream again, followed by Snitter's furious growling and the painful squeaks of a rat being mauled. Their hearts in their mouths, they dashed through the trees, ignoring the branches painfully brushing against them.

Bursting out of the trees on the riverbank, a terrible sight met their eyes: Snitter was caught in a furious fight with a giant rat, the size of a poodle; the fox terrier, although obviously not a trained bloodhound, had the vile creature by the neck, while the rat, with its ugly grey fur and evil red eyes, was biting and clawing furiously at its attacker, drawing blood. Then Jamie noticed the blind doe, which Snitter was trying to protect, striding blindly nearby, feeling for a way out; they had found Rosebud in the nick of time.

Rosebud was a brown, mousy-furred rabbit, and, like all other rabbits in this world, almost Jamie's size. However, like Hannah had told him, the doe looked horribly unhealthy, with shabby, fading fur and milk-white eyes, which were lined with ghastly tumours, a testament to the Myxomatosis infection she carried. And currently, the doe, blind and unable to see what was going on, looked utterly terrified from the sounds of Snitter's snarls and the rat's shrieks, undoubtedly thinking she was about to be attacked herself. Sure enough, as she blindly felt her way around, trying to get away, she tripped over the edge of a ledge overlooking the river and fell into the water.

"No! Rosebud!" Hannah shrieked, as she and Jamie rushed over to the water's edge. Without her eyesight or sense of smell to help her find her way back to shore, the poor creature was thrashing about blindly in the water, about to drown. Jamie's heart skipped a beat; he had seen animals about to die up close before, but seeing a creature, which he knew, could talk and feel like a _human being_, was utterly horrifying.

Struggling to maintain a grip on himself and think straight, he looked around desperately, for anything he could use to help her. Although he was a good swimmer, the doe was already in the deep part of the river, where the current was strongest, making it too dangerous to swim in after her, and she was too far out to catch her with a branch. All Jamie and Hannah could do was to follow along the bank, watching her quickly losing the battle with the ruthless current.

Meanwhile, the mauled rat had escaped Snitter's grasp and was running for its life; it run past Jamie, heading down the riverbank, onto a fallen tree that formed a bridge across the river, onto the opposite bank and out of sight. The sight of the tree lying vertically across the river, instantly gave Jamie an idea. Ignoring Snitter's barking of the escaped enemy, he stepped onto the rotting tree trunk, which creaked dangerously under his weight, as if about to give way. But it held. Lying down flat on his stomach, grasping his knife in one hand, he jabbed the blade into the rotting wood to anchor himself down, and reached out to the water with the other...

Just as the drowning doe drifted past, under the tree, Jamie grabbed hold of her ears; instantly, a tug-of-war commenced between himself and the water, each trying to claim the rabbit. The old tree continued to creak dangerously beneath him, unable to withstand the weight much longer. Suddenly, the end lying on the opposite bank finally gave way, causing the tree to splash down into the water, with the other end on Jamie's side about to give way any second.

Just as Jamie was facing the dilemma, to either let go of the doe and save himself, or else risk getting swallowed up with her, he felt Snitter grab hold of his trouser leg, pulling him back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hannah riding on Snitter's shoulders, using the dog's ears as reigns; while Jamie had been preoccupied with saving Rosebud, the mouse, seeing her friend in danger, had rushed up to the dog and stirred him back, to help his master.

With Snitter's help, Jamie managed to drag himself backwards off the tree and onto the bank, the unconscious doe under his arm. Not a moment too soon, the last few remaining roots keeping the fallen tree anchored to shore finally snapped and then it vanished downstream and out of sight. On the opposite bank, Jamie caught sight of the rat, all bloodied and battered, tended to by, what appeared to be, some of its fellow denmates. Jamie gave the foul creatures a triumphant sneer, as the rats, now permanently cut off from the side of the river where the warren was, squeaking furiously back at him as they turned and headed back towards their den, sulking.

Turning his attention back to the doe he had just saved, Jamie saw Rosebud, although seemingly still alive, appeared to be in a state of deep shock from the ordeal, unconscious and unresponsive. Jamie hesitated; what was he suppose to do? _Okay, come on Jamie, think!_ he thought desperately, _Animal in shock… What did mum say? Oh yes, keep warm and peaceful._

"All right, Hannah help me here!" he said, taking off his jacket to use as a blanket. Carefully wrapping up the doe in his jacket and zipping it up, to make her as comfortable as possible, he laid her down to rest. It was then that he heard the faint gurgling noise in her throat; in her panic, the doe had inhaled water, which was now obstructing her airway, chocking her.

"Drat, she is chocking! Now what?"

Despite his furious thinking, he couldn't remember what he was supposed to do; he could vaguely remember something his father had once described to him, of a man who had been chocking on a swallowed marble, forcing his companion to puncture a hole in his throat to save his life. Although he was tempted to try and cut a bypass in the doe's throat with his knife, to drain out the water, without any experience in such a drastic procedure, he felt it was too dangerous. Then, he suddenly remembered; the SAS survival guide his father had given him for his birthday! That little book had the instructions he needed.

Hurryingly taking it out from his pocket, he hastily flipped through the pages, looking through the first aid section, under the heading _Chocking and Drowning_.

"'Place in emergency position and slap hard over back to stimulate retching when the victim coughs.' That's it!" Following the illustrated diagram and praying the procedure worked for animals as well as humans, he placed the doe on her belly, keeping her head turned sideways, letting all the water and mucus in her throat drain out onto the grass. For a moment, there was still no response and Jamie feared he might be too late; then, suddenly the doe started coughing violently, chocking up the rest of the water. Jamie gave her a few gentle slaps on the back, weary of hurting her, until her breathing returned to normal. It was then that she realised she had company.

"Yao…Pli lay thli?" she muttered, her sightless eyes staring vacantly between Jamie, Snitter and Hannah. Because of her blindness and lack of sense of smell, she could only feel the strange texture of the unfamiliar, yet warm fabric of Jamie's jumper wrapped snugly around her, the nose of some unseen creature, which was Snitter, sniffing her, as well as an unfamiliar voice speaking in Hedgerow to another very familiar voice…

"_Hannah_?" she gasped, recognising the voice of her friend and guide, whom she undoubtedly believed to be dead. Sure enough, Hannah snuggled up close to her friend's face to reassure her, "Zyz yen, atha-rusami. A hli yen." For an instant the doe looked overjoyed as she continued conversing with Hannah in that strange language Jamie couldn't understand, as the mouse apparently told her what had happened. He saw the doe gasp in shock at Hannah's words, muttering something that sounded like concern, before suddenly leaping to her feet in horror and blindly backing away. Jamie felt his insides coil up in anticipation as he realised Hannah must have told Rosebud that it was a human and his dog that had saved them both. And currently, the realisation that this human was standing beside her had the blind doe on edge with fear.

"It's all right, I am not going to hurt you," Jamie said, reaching out to pat the doe, who only shrunk back in fear. Despite her obvious fear of him, Jamie could tell his talking abilities had definitely caught her interest, as her sightless eyes stared vacantly in his direction, wide as saucers. Meanwhile, Hannah was desperately still trying to reassure her in that strange language of theirs; whatever she was telling her, it seemed to work somewhat as she gently approached and felt his hand with her ulcer-swollen nose, its dead scent glands sniffing uselessly at nothing. Although she cringed at his touch, Jamie gently patted her on the nose and then between the ears, trying to reassure her of his good intentions. Sure enough, she finally found her voice and spoke, this time in English, "Who…who are you?"

Before Jamie could reply however, the group was startled by a loud voice coming from the bushes. Suddenly, another giant rabbit appeared out of the bushes; this one was larger and much older than Rosebud, with greying fur and whiskers, yet in contrast to her, still had his eyesight, judging from those pale hazel irises that instantly came to rest on Jamie, with a furious glare.

Before the boy knew what was happening, the buck had leapt forward, stood on its forelegs, swinging its hind legs at Jamie. Despite his old age, he could still kick amazingly hard; the blow came with great force and strength, hitting Jamie directly in the stomach and sending him flying. With a violent blow, his head struck a nearby rock; before everything went black around him, he caught a glimpse of Snitter, furious at seeing his master attacked, spring at the old rabbit in a vicious counter-attack, while Hannah and Rosebud struggled to break up the conflict…

**Author's note:** For those of you who have read my first story will notice that this is written along the same lines with the first. Don't get bored yet; I do intend to retain some similarities in the plot but include many differences as well. The parts with the effects of _Myxomatosis_ are based on real medical reports of infected rabbits and I try to be as realistic as possible in my description of blind rabbits adjusting. Even Hannah's role as a 'guide-mouse' for the blind has been observed with domesticated rabbits housed with guinea pigs, so I suppose it could work. Enjoy and please review!


	7. Chapter 7 Thinial

A rabbit and a mouse were walking along their usual trail along the riverbank. The young doe, Rosebud was holding onto her friend Hannah's tail with her mouth, as her guide-mouse-for-the-blind led her along. Rosebud and Hannah lived in a run-down warren called Thinial, located on the northern bank of, what centuries ago, had been known as the Enborne River. Although once a peaceful and flourishing warren, the rabbits of Thinial now led anything but a happy life.

Rosebud wasn't a native of Thinial; instead, she had been born at a nearby warren called Sandleford, the only doe in a litter of five. Her parents Walnut and Tulip, as well as her brothers Hazel, Fiver, Peanut and Almond had been easy-going outskirters, leading relatively easy lives. As kittens, her siblings would spend most of their time enjoying the company of their friends, mostly fellow outskirters, as well as each other. Rosebud however, had gone as far as to befriend Silver, the nephew of the Chief Rabbit himself.

Although interactions between the elite class and the outskirters were highly discouraged due to social discriminations, the aristocratic rabbit valued his friendship with the outskirter doe more than his social status, which had been thrust upon his shoulders against his will by his family. In spite of his mother's, not to mention his uncle's, disapproval, Silver would often sneak out with some other of his aristocratic friends, who also shared their positive view of outskirters, to play with Rosebud and her brothers.

Despite being forced to keep their friendship a secret from Silver's strict parents, Rosebud and her friends used to get into a lot of mischief together, sometimes even sneaking out of the warren and tailing the Owsla patrols. Back then, Rosebud had regarded her life as perfect. Unfortunately, her happiness had been extremely short-lived.

When she had still been a kitten, a ferocious stranger had come to Sandleford and under, what later was revealed to be, false pretences, sought to form an 'alliance' with the Threarah, who had been absent at the time, on an expedition. Before the stranger could be accommodated however, the Threarah had returned, battered and exhausted, exposing him as a murderous enemy that had murdered the rest of his party and had come to infiltrate their warren. This enemy from the infamous Dark Territory, who called himself General Woundwort, was brutally driven out, but not before swearing cruel revenge.

Sure enough, not long thereafter, as if by supernatural means, the whole area was under attack by an outbreak of White Blindness. All local flees and ticks quickly became carriers of the plague and any rabbits bitten became victims. Thinial, located closest to the river, where those pests flourished best, was the first to fall; a few sick survivors had fled to Sandleford, unintentionally bringing the plague with them from the host flees still nesting in their ears.

Soon, Sandleford was also on the verge of annihilation. With the host flees multiplying uncontrollably in the warm summer weather, bucks, does and kittens alike were dropping like flies; starting with high fever and loss of appetite, the disease would then cause ulcers, tumours and finally blindness and loss of smell. Those lucky to succumb to the disease had been far better off than those who survived it, only to be left almost entirely helpless, as well as a potential threat for any healthy rabbits around them.

In a desperate attempt to save his warren, the Threarah was forced to make the bitter decision to have everyone infected driven out, to control the epidemic. A large group of sick rabbits, blind or going blind, including poor Rosebud, were forced to leave the warren to die, leaving devastated friends and family behind to mourn them.

The last thing Rosebud ever saw, shortly before her vision had left her forever, were the heartbroken faces of her parents and brothers, and even Silver, watching her walking away to certain death. The memory of her hysteric mother, screaming at her to come back, while her tearful father and the Owsla scouts restrained her, still haunted her. Unbeknownst to her, she had died of shock not long thereafter, when her mate and two Owsla-enlisted sons were killed during a disastrous raid.

Utterly hopeless, the sick rabbits had quickly lost the last of their vision and sense of smell, got separated and were soon picked off by elil. Blind and alone, Rosebud had wondered hopelessly for hours, terrified and expecting to die, with the distant sounds of the elil circling her. Then, she had been found by an adult rabbit, who introduced herself as non other than Silver's mother Flyairth, another of the exiled infected. Recognising her as her son's friend, the former elite rabbit had taken pity on her and, putting aside her once discriminating agenda, had taken her under her wing.

The two of them, along with former Captain Broom of the Sandleford Owsla, as well as several others that still hadn't lost their sight completely, managed to reach the deserted Thinial, where they found sanctuary from the elil and the elements.

After a while, the disease had run its cycle and the worst was over; a few more of their group had succumbed to the fever but the rest had recovered, but left permanently blind and with no sense of smell, the most crucial gift Frith had bestowed upon rabbits. However, with Flyairth's fierce determination to keep them alive, they had slowly adjusted to a new life at Thinial. After assessing their seemingly desperate situation, they had slowly found ways to cope with their disability and learn a new way of life.

Flyairth had been appointed Chieftess of Thinial, the first known doe leader in history, given that Lapine society was always known to be male-dominated. Yet, because of her restless dedication to help them all readjust to life rather than die, it was agreed that she deserved the title. Captain Broom, the only exiled rabbit who had recovered, retaining his sight and sense of smell due to some unknown natural immunity, but still remained a carrier of the disease, had been appointed the rehabilitation trainer of the warren, teaching the blind how to coordinate themselves using only touch and hearing. Often, he would also be the one sent out to recover rabbits that had gotten lost after wandering off their marked trails.

With the arrival of Hannah and her mother, he had found a couple of useful assistants, each assigned to be the eyes and nose of a training rabbit. Also, as per Captain Broom's instructions, the mice were also able to point out edible vegetation to the blind, as well as teach them how to identify it by feeling the texture. This gave everyone the ability to venture greater distances from the warren, enlightening their confinement, as well as helping them gain greater independence.

Hannah had been appointed Rosebud's personal caregiver and the two had become close friends over the years. Flyairth-rah, who had developed a deep fondness for Rosebud, probably because she was the only remaining link to her son, whose fate she knew nothing about, had become her guardian and raised her as her own. Now, as an adolescent, she and Hannah would spend a lot of time together, often going on long walks along the riverbank, discussing make-belief prospects for the future. Although, deep down, Rosebud knew all too well that she had no chance of ever regaining her eyesight or sense of smell, let alone be a normal rabbit again, she refused to let go of the dream of returning home someday.

Ever since she had been driven out of her home warren, leaving her parents, brothers, and friends - particularly Silver - behind, her painful memories, which was all she had left to penetrate the odourless blackness she now resided in, was pure torture for the young doe. Although Hannah, her 'Aunt' Flyairth and Captain Broom continuously urged her to forget her past, lest it only cause her more pain, Rosebud couldn't help but dwell on her dreams of being a normal rabbit again; to be able to see the beauties of life, be able to mate and have kittens, to see her friends and family again, to be fully independent again…

Today was a day like any other; after morning flayrah, Rosebud and Hannah had set off on their routine walk along the riverbank. Because of her disability, Flyairth had forbidden Rosebud to wonder off the trail and ordered her to stay close to the river at all times. From Captain Broom's disability training, she had learned to find her way around by using the river; when the sound was on her left, she knew she was moving away from the warren and when it was on her right, she was moving towards it. But if she moved away from the river into the woods, out of earshot of the water, would leave her entirely dependant on Hannah to guide her back. Despite her protests, Flyairth, over-protective of her adoptive niece, had bluntly refused to let her venture beyond the boundaries of the woods and ordered Hannah to make sure that rule remained enforced at all times.

Although fully aware that if something happened to Hannah, she would be left stranded and easy prey for the elil, Rosebud, sick of the same trail, had finally managed to persuade her friend to take her for a brief 'extended' walk, without her Aunt Flyairth knowing. Although Hannah had been hesitant, fully aware of the consequences if something happened, her sympathy for her young friend, who had been so wrongly deprived of her happiness in life, finally won out. After making Rosebud promise that she would stick with her all the way and not try anything foolish, the two friends left the river trail and headed into the woods, into unfamiliar territory.

"_Think we'll find where those rats come from?"_ Rosebud asked as they walked along, a hesitant Hannah leading the way. For a while now, Thinial was under assault from a highly unwelcome pest: a swarm of black rats had stumbled across the warren and finding the rabbits blind and without a sense of smell, had marked the warren as their area of invasion. These wretched creatures were ruthless, attacking either at night or in the middle of the day, biting rabbits out on silflay, stealing what little food they had from the burrows, or simply harassing their victims for sport. With all the Thinial rabbits blind and powerless to confront the rats, either by sight or scent, the rats would torment them without end; even Captain Broom, who was getting on his years, was unable to keep them at bay for long.

So far, any efforts to locate the den had been fruitless, forcing the rabbits to sleep close at night, guarding their precious little food with their lives, and living in fear. To add to their misery, with the rats constantly swarming the warren, Captain Broom had privately expressed concern to Flyairth that they might soon attract elil, which would spell out their doom.

"_How should I know Rosebud? Careful, you don't lose your grip on my tail now!"_ Hannah snapped, cross at her friend's stubborn recklessness, _"What we are doing is stupid and dangerous Rosebud! If your aunt finds out, she'll have my ears for this! Mind you, she'd have my life if something happens to you on my watch!"_ Rosebud sighed in exasperation.

"_Oh, come on Hannah, where is your sense of adventure? When we were children, you were the one urging me to make the most of life…"_

"_I had only just grown my first fur then,"_ Hannah snapped indignantly, _"I was young and foolish; but I got a brain after that incident with the hornet hive!"_ Rosebud couldn't help but snort at the memory, remembering her friend's moaning and complaints as her mother had picked the loose stings of the hornets that had stung her. They had been playing Rolling Acorn at the time, with Hannah picking and throwing acorns for Rosebud to catch blindly, using her hearing, when she had accidentally disturbed the hive, causing the hornets to go into a feeding frenzy. Hannah narrowed her eyes at the memory, _"Well, ha ha, very funny! Come on, we are supposed to return to the warren before nightfall."_

A little way further, they came to a meadow. Rosebud looked skywards, her sightless eyes staring vacantly at the sun, _"I feel the warmth of Frith; how I wish I could see His light again…"_ But Hannah, who had full use of her eyesight, suddenly had her eyes pinned to the sky; flying over the trees on the horizon was a strange-looking creature, unlike anything she had ever seen before. It looked like some sort of bird, with white wings and a tail, yet didn't seem to flap them as it flew along. Rosebud, noticing her friend's silence, nudged her to get her attention_, "What's the matter Hannah?"_

"_I don't know dear. It looks like some strange bird…"_ Rosebud felt alarmed; for rabbits, a 'bird' usually meant flying elil, which were second best killers to the White Blindness. But Hannah's voice sounded more confused than fearful, _"I've never seen anything quite like it before. Where did that thing come from…?"_ Unfortunately, in the distraction with the 'mysterious bird', which was Jamie's glider, the two friends had let their guard down. That instant lack of vigilance was a big mistake; without warning, the screeching sound of an attacking hawk sounded above their heads, as the flying monster swooped down on them for the kill.

Rosebud didn't see it happen; she only heard the screech of the hawk, the whooshing of its wings, followed by the agonizing screams of Hannah as the hawk snatched her guide-mouse away. Panic struck instantly; Rosebud broke into a run, blindly running for cover. Ducking into the foliage on the edge of the meadow, she curled up into a ball, feeling her heart beating wildly against her chest with fear, expecting the hawk to make another run and take her too. But it never happened; only the sound of the breeze and the singing of distant birds could be heard. Soon, her fear gave way to guilt.

Hannah was dead because of _her_; all because of her desire for a little fun. If she had taken her Aunt Flyairth's warnings of the danger of her disability more seriously, this never would have happened. Now her only friend from her exile was gone, devoured by that monster. And, to make matters worse, because she was off the trail, now _she_ was lost, unable to make her way back to the warren alone. Her stomach bottomed out as she realised, with sick dread, she was now a sitting duck for elil.

Fighting the urge to be sick, tears of fear and guilt pouring from her milk-white eyes, she tried to get a grip on herself and think straight. She knew that if she didn't return to the warren by nightfall, Flyairth would send Captain Broom out to look for her and Hannah. But with her being off the trail, he would of course find nothing and assume they were lost. And what was the likelihood of an aged, semi-cynical rabbit, who could barely walk anyone, to track her down out here? There was no other way to put it; she was lost and alone, with the prospect of being eaten by the elil that came out hunting after sunset. Without her sense of smell and her vision, she was helpless as a kitten, with the Black Rabbit coming for her.

Cursing herself in frustration and self-hatred for her inability to save herself, as well as for her recklessness that had landed her in this mess in the first place, not to mention having cost the life of the friend, Rosebud made up her mind. Helpless and in a hopeless situation as she was, she wasn't going to give up so easily; if she just sat there, waiting to be saved or to die, she would be letting Hannah to have died in vain. Although she had no idea _how_ she was going to do it, she would make her way to safety…or die trying.

Fuelled with determination for the seemingly impossible task, she set off. Struggling to remember the way she had come and reverse it in her mind, she made her way through the woods, ignoring the thorns and brambles brushing against her face and fur, keeping her ears extended for the sound of the river. For a while, she got nowhere and feared she was going round in circles. Then, after what seemed like hours, just when she was about to give up hope, she finally heard it; the distant sound of water. The river was back within her hearing range; safety was close! Now if she could only reach the riverbank and follow it downstream, she would reach the warren. In spite of her relief, her heart sank at the thought of Hannah and what the others would think of her when she told them what had happened.

Suddenly, as she neared the river, she heard something that sent chills down her spine; the squeaking of approaching rats. The same rats that had been molesting the warren for the past few moons were returning for another assault and she was currently standing right in their path! Before she could decide in which direction to run, she felt a small creature latch itself onto her shoulders, chewing away at her ear. Screaming at the pain and feeling the blood from her torn ear pouring down her cheek, she struggled furiously, trying to shake the rat off. The excited squeaking in the distance told her there was probably a whole crowd of them approaching.

Breaking into a run, she fled into the direction of the river, the rat in hot pursuit. For a healthy rabbit, which had eyesight and a good sense of smell to dodge its attacks, a rat wouldn't pose any significant threat; but in Rosebud's case, the foul creature had her entirely at its mercy. A crowd of them would certainly kill her and then feast on her remains! Before she knew what was happening, the rat was upon her again, this time going for her neck.

Suddenly, without warning, she heard a fierce growl and felt the rat being torn from her shoulder by another assailant; the painful screeching told her the rat was being viciously mauled. Cold dread built up inside her as she recognised the barks of a dog; undoubtedly, all the commotion and the smell of her blood had attracted elil. The panicked squeaking in the background told her, the rest of the rats, also having sensed the dog, were fleeing. Now it was only a matter of time before it finished with the rat and turned its attention to her.

Silently praying for Frith's help, she backed away, trying to put as much space as possible between herself and the eli. Unfortunately, in her state of terror, she had forgotten another very important danger Captain Broom had warned her about: _the river_! Before she could realise her mistake, the damage was done. Losing her footing, she fell over the edge of a ledge and plummeted into the churning water.

Fear, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, struck, as she felt the cold water engulf her and start dragging her along. Rabbits by nature aren't very good swimmers; and Rosebud, who had never been in open water in her life, but had heard so many stories of blind rabbits falling in and drowning because they couldn't find their way out, could no longer control her panic. She let out a scream for help, one that was instantly gagged by the water, which started pouring down her throat, causing her to choke and splutter. Feeling herself drowning, Rosebud realised it was all over for her; she was going to die, but at least she will have done her best to save herself.

Silently, she blessed her parents and brothers who undoubtedly believed her long dead, if they weren't dead themselves; soon, her suffering of being helpless and exiled would be over. Before the water in her lungs caused her to slip into unconsciousness, she felt something grab hold of her ears… Then, she knew no more.

After what seemed like forever, Rosebud felt herself return to consciousness; the first thing she realised was that she couldn't breathe. As she tried to take a breath, she instantly felt a chocking fit erupt in her throat from the water she had swallowed, which was obstructing her airway. As she coughed and spluttered, she felt something slap her on the back, helping her choke up the water and breathe normally. Panting for air, she suddenly realised, to her utmost amazement, she was back on dry land, tucked beneath something warm and cosy, almost as good as her mother's embrace. What had happened? Was she dead and in the afterlife? Then why was she still blind and without her sense of smell, since the dead were supposedly reborn in eternally young, healthy bodies after dying?

Her confusion was broken at the sound of two concerned voices speaking in Hedgerow beside her. One was an unfamiliar male one, which sounded rather young. Had some passing hlessi saved her? Finally finding her voice, she muttered, _"Where…Who is there?"_ The sound of the second voice nearly took her breath away as she realised it belonged to non other than…

"_Hannah_?_!_"

"_Rest heart-sister,"_ said Hannah's southing voice, nuzzling her under the chin, _"I am here now."_ Rosebud felt as if she was losing her mind as she realised her friend was indeed still alive, _"I… I thought you were dead! Oh Hannah, I am so sorry,"_ she said, her pain of guilt once again building up inside her, _"I should have listened to you…"_

"_It's all right dear,"_ Hannah said warmly, not showing the least anger for endangering her life, _"No harm done; mind you, I would have become a meal for that monster if it hadn't been for this strange fellow, who also saved you from the water. I want you to meet him…"_ At this, Rosebud remembered the second voice. Who was this stranger who had apparently saved both her and Hannah? Remembering her dangerous condition and the warnings by Flyairth that an infected rabbit could easily pass on the Blindness to others, Rosebud felt alarmed.

"_Hannah, you shouldn't have let a hlessi help me! I might have gotten him infected too…"_ To her utmost surprise and outrage, Hannah only laughed. _"What, you think this is funny? I thought I knew you better than that…!"_ she snapped. Recovering from her laughter, Hannah explained.

"_He isn't a rabbit, Rosebud. Dear, our saviours are non other that an ithe who can speak Hedgerow and his dog…"_ That was the wrong thing to say for, in an instant, Rosebud had leapt to her feet in terror. An _ithe_ and a _dog_ were standing beside her? Although she had never actually seen a human in her life, her parents, as well as her Aunt Flyairth used to tell her many terrifying stories of these strange, brutal creatures, which were often referred to as 'masters of the Thousand' because of the grave threat they posed to rabbits. She had heard of many rabbits that had had the misfortune of witnessing their savagery and ability to kill up close, who claimed that if there was anything to be feared of more than the White Blindness, it was the ithel.

In spite of her fear however, Rosebud suddenly realised what Hannah had just said. _Talking_ ithe? But that was impossible! Talking humans were only heard of in stories Flyairth and her mother used to tell her as a kitten. On the other hand, this human standing before her didn't seem to be acting hostile in any way. Undoubtedly, he had had her at his mercy while she had been unconscious, yet he hadn't ripped her to pieces as one would expect. And that dog of his that had tackled the rat; had he sent his dog to _protect_ her?

Sure enough, she suddenly felt the human gently caressing her between the ears and realised the stranger was standing right in front of her. She cringed, her instinct shouting at her to claw at his hand and bolt, but the sound of his voice kept her petrified in amazement, "It's all right, I am not going to hurt you!"

Having been living with Hannah since childhood, Rosebud knew good Hedgerow; although she rarely used it and even Hannah had become accustomed to communicating in Lapine, she knew enough to understand what this strange human was saying to her. There was no doubt about it; this human could actually talk and think like her, and apparently had no ill intentions. Finally, her curiosity overpowered her fear and, hesitantly, replied in Hedgerow, "Who…who are you?" Before the human could formulate any sort of response however, another voice sounded from nearby.

"_Rosebud, where are you? Answer me!"_

The sound of the voice was a source of relief for Rosebud, as she recognised it as Captain Broom's; help had arrived for her and Hannah! But then she remembered the human standing before her. Having known the aged Captain of Owsla all her life, although she knew him to be kind-hearted, if not a bit of a bore with his storytelling, she also knew him to be highly suspicious of strangers, possibly as a result of the incident with Woundwort, for which he still blamed himself to this day. The sight of a _human_ near her would definitely be something to stir up his warrior instincts. Sure enough, she heard a rustling in some nearby bushes, followed by some swift running and then the human gave a loud yell of pain as the aged rabbit tackled him to the ground.

"_Get away from her you damned beast of Inle!"_ Captain Broom roared, giving the human a fierce hind-leg kick that sent him flying, _"Hannah, get Rosebud out of here now! I'll keep him busy…"_ Suddenly, Rosebud heard an angry roar, followed by Captain Broom's own roar; the dog, defensive of its master, had launched itself at Broom and the two were engaged in a furious fight. Although neither was strong enough to kill one another, painful blows, bites and clawing were exchanged, with Hannah trying to break up the scuffle, _"Captain Broom, stop! He isn't a threat!"_

Throwing the dog off of him, Captain Broom got to his feet, panting and bruised. His aged eyes, one of which was lined with a cataract, shone with fearless determination, as he stood in front of Rosebud and Hannah, shielding them from the dog, _"When I say, run for the warren! Don't wait for me…"_ But Rosebud, finally having regained her confidence, stood forward, _"No, Captain, please listen to me! That ithe just saved my life and Hannah's. He is not a threat…"_ At this, Captain Broom's shocked expression turned furious.

"_What! You mean to tell me, you willingly approached this foul creature? Have you lost your minds, both of you? He could have killed you! And what in Frith's name are you blabbering about, 'he saved your lives'?"_

"_I…We wondered off the trail,"_ Rosebud explained, earning her another frown from Captain Broom, _"And Hannah was snatched away by a hawk. She claims this human saved her."_ Broom turned to stare at Hannah, who showed him the band-aids dressing the scratches on her haunch, _"I can vouch for Rosebud's story, Captain Broom,"_ the mouse said, _"One of those rats had her cornered and this human – his name is Jamie – sent his dog ahead to drive off her assailants."_

"_In the commotion, I panicked, tripped and fell into the river,"_ Rosebud continued, causing the aged rabbit to gasp in shock, _"And if it hadn't been for this stranger, the Black Rabbit would have me now!"_ Captain Broom's face softened somewhat, as he turned to look at Snitter, who stood in a protective stance in front of his unconscious master, glaring dangerously at the aged rabbit, as if daring him to come any closer.

"_But…I saw that human about to seize you by the throat! And that dog certainly doesn't give me the impression of meaning no harm!"_ he retorted, wincing at the bites Snitter had given him in the fight.

"_Well, you did attack his friend,"_ Hannah said, as-a-matter-of-factly, _"What did you expect?"_ Although Captain Broom was beginning to realise his mistake, as well as taking in Jamie's peculiar appearance, which was unlike any human he had ever seen before, he still had serious doubts, _"I don't like this. Let's just go; he can go his own way when he wakes…"_ Unfortunately, neither Rosebud nor Hannah were satisfied with the idea.

"_You mean we leave him here like this?"_ Hannah protested, _"He won't survive the night out here if he can't defend himself! Even his dog can't protect him from the elil!"_ Of course, Broom, understanding where they were getting at, looked outraged, _"There is no way we are taking this…this ithe back to the warren with us! If he learns the location, he could easily lead the rest of his tribe there! We wouldn't stand a chance against an invasion. No, it is simply out of the question!"_ he said with a firm air of finality. Before Rosebud and Hannah could continue arguing however, another voice sounded from the footpath that led to the warren.

"_Captain Broom? What's all the commotion about?" _A large, aged female rabbit had emerged from the foliage; like the other Thinialns, Flyairth was blind and sickly-looking, with greying, once silvery-white fur, which resembled her brother and children's. Despite her advanced age and poor health, even a retard could sense the strong authority that radiated from the Chieftess of the quarantine colony.

Although she rarely left the warren anymore due to her old age, her concern for her people's well-being remained as strong as ever. Over time, she, like her friends, had also adjusted to making her way around using only her hearing and touch, something she could manage better than anyone. Displaying not even the faintest signs of being blind, excluding her milk-white eyes, Flyairth made her way up to the others, _"What in Frith's name is going on here? And where you been Rosebud?"_

"_It seems our dear young Rosebud decided to get into some mischief today and had a strange encounter…"_ Captain Broom explained sternly, as he told his Chieftess what had happened. Flyairth nearly uttered a gasp of terror and surprise at the mention of a 'talking ithe', yet managed to maintain her composure as Captain Broom explained, with obvious disapproval of Rosebud and Hannah's actions, yet fortunately, without omitting the fact that it had been this strange human that had saved her niece and her guide mouse from certain death.

"_I don't know Rosebud or Hannah to be prone to lying,"_ he concluded, _"Maybe it all happened as they said. However, I will leave it up to you to determine the appropriate action."_

Flyairth frowned in silent thinking; after everything she had just heard, in contrast to Captain Broom, who thought little of it, she realised that this _talking_ human could actually be part of a great secret of their ancestors, passed down to her through her family. If the Gift of Prince Rainbow - as the legend was known - was actually unfolding, then it was time for her to make a difficult decision: she could either follow her brother's advice and turn this human away, or she could admit him, to try and determine whether or not he was the foretold Messenger of Destiny, who was meant to resurrect the suppressed legacy of El-ahrairah, their ancestral Prince and founder of their world.

"_Aunt Flyairth, please,"_ Rosebud begged her guardian, _"I have never doubted your judgement before, so could you please trust mine for once? This human had done us nothing but good when he had no obligation to risk himself on our behalf. Besides, if he's as young as Hannah says, then what threat could he possibly pose to us?"_

"_Even elil may appear tame when they are young," _retorted Captain Broom indignantly, _"But then they grow to be monstrous killers! And I wouldn't say that this runt is that young and helpless,"_ he said, studying Jamie's form, which looked much smaller and underdeveloped than the humans he had encountered during his long career as Sandleford's Captain of Owsla, _"I recall a time when the Threarah and I run foul of…"_

"_That's enough Captain Broom,"_ Flyairth said flatly, before he could launch into another of his boring, exaggerating stories of his past adventures. She turned to Rosebud and Hannah, _"Are you absolutely certain about this human meaning you no harm?"_ Both of them muttered their replies of positive belief in Jamie's trustworthiness, _"Very well then. Captain Broom, we are taking this strange human back to the warren with us."_

Then came the problem of actually reaching Jamie, to move him to safety; Snitter remained standing in a defensive stance between them and his master, as if protecting him from what, he now saw, as a potential threat. Sure enough, as Broom tried approaching, the fox terrier growled dangerously, causing them all to jump back in alarm.

"_Let me try,"_ Hannah suggested, _"That dog has already met me and seems to have a certain…soft spot for me,"_ she said, causing the others to raise their eyebrows.

Carefully approaching Snitter, who seemed likely to strike at any moment, she walked up to the dog and let it sniff her. For an instant, she thought he was going to grab her it its jaws and kill her; instead, it relaxed, recognising her as a friend and let her pass.

It took quite a while to persuade the vigilant dog to let them all get close to Jamie. Finally, after a while of gentle and methodical approaching, with Hannah letting herself get licked and sniffed at by the excited dog as a distraction, they finally managed to hoist Jamie onto Captain Broom's shoulders, who staggered, his aged bones creaking in protest. With Hannah riding on Snitter's shoulders, the dog circled the group restlessly, as if making sure they wouldn't snatch Jamie away from him, as they made their way downriver, towards Thinial.

Although still unconscious, Broom and Hannah had confirmed the boy was still alive, the blow he had taken to the head having only caused a mild concussion, without having penetrated the skull or blood vessels. As they made their way back to the safety of their warren, Flyairth kept questioning her decision to bring this strange, talking human into her home. While it was within every moral rabbit's code of honour to repay such a valiant favour to any stranger, it wasn't everyday that the hero was an _ithe_, much less a _talking_ one. Humans were always known to be violent, dangerous creatures that couldn't be trusted; and even if this stranger was indeed the prophesized Messenger, the legend never explained whether the Gift would bring good or harm to their world. Her brother had always stressed that letting the Gift unfold meant tempting fate and that they were far better off keeping things as they were.

Personally, Flyairth, after having suffered so much in life, had little reason to trust this human, no matter how honest his intentions seemed. Her niece and Hannah might have developed a soft spot for this youngster for saving their lives, but what did they know?

Praying that her bold decision wouldn't bring a calamity upon them as her brother had always warned her, she decided to banish the fearful thoughts from her mind and focus on nursing this strange human back to health, before getting to the bottom of this business once and for all. Like her niece had requested, she would pass judgement only after observing this human for herself.

**Author's note:** Coming up next, Jamie meets the Thinialns. For those of you who have read _Tales from Watership Down_ will notice that the Flyairth in this story differs from her novel counterpart, as to trusting humans. This stems from the fact that in the _New World_ series, White Blindness is known as a natural enemy, unrelated to humans (the savages of the future don't use White Blindness against rabbits). For those of you who have read my first story will remember that Flyairth is the Threarah's sister and Silver's mother. Also, the Gift of Prince Rainbow, which involved Alan in the previous story, would be familiar to Flyairth, and think Jamie is the Messenger. Enjoy and please review! 


	8. Chapter 8 A Departure and a Promise

Jamie groaned as he opened in eyes, only to find himself engulfed in complete darkness. Where was he? Was he home in bed and there was a power failure in the middle of the night? Then again, the night sky always shown through his bedroom window, which now it wasn't there… Feeling the surface beneath him, he realised he was lying on some sort of rough straw bedding, with a dry, dirt floor beneath. The air had the odour of freshly dug earth with a touch of dampness, almost as if he was in a closed space…

With a jolt of terror, he realised he was _underground_. What had happened? Was he buried alive? Fearful thoughts went through his head as he feverishly searched his pockets for anything to provide light with, to let him get a better look at his surroundings, praying it wasn't what he thought it was.

Taking out his cell phone, the illuminated screen revealed the walls of some sort of cavern surrounding him all around; he was indeed underground, in some sort of burrow, no more than five feet high and six wide. Tree roots trailed down from the ceiling, forming supports along the walls, like planking in a mine tunnel. Soon the blank spots in his memory began to clear and it all came back to him: flying through the Aurora, finding the world completely and inexplicably changed, crashing his glider in the tree, the hawk attack, meeting Hannah and Rosebud…

Running his hand through his hair, he felt a sore spot with a semi-dried bloodstain from when he had banged his head; the memory of that old rabbit attacking him resurfaced and he realised, he must be at Thinial, Rosebud and Hannah's warren. But why had they brought him here? Was he a prisoner? Or had they sealed him into this hole to leave him to die? His fearful thoughts were suddenly interrupted by something nuzzling him on the neck. Turning, he saw Snitter who, seeing his master awake had risen to greet him. Although overjoyed to see his faithful dog, the sight of several ugly scratches on the dog's sides and ears, told Jamie there had been trouble.

Looking frantically for a way out, he finally spotted the outline of an opening in the burrow wall, which was blocked with a huge boulder wedged across it from the other side. Crawling up to it, he found it was solid and wouldn't budge. He was trapped. Fighting to remain calm, he struggled to get his wits together and figure out a way out of this. Fortunately, he found he still had all his belongings on him, his attackers apparently having overlooked them when they had brought him here.

Lighting one of the glow sticks from his survival kit to conserve his phone battery, illuminating the dark burrow with a bright chemical light, he took out his knife. Opening the saw blade, he proceeded to attack the wall beside the sealed entrance, trying to tunnel his way out. Before he could get that far however, a familiar squeaky voice caught him off-guard.

"Hallo Jamie. You're finally awake!" Looking down, he saw Hannah had appeared through a small gap between the rock and the burrow floor. "I was just going to check on Rosebud and…" The horrified look on Jamie's face caused her face to fall, "What's the matter?"

"'What's the matter?'" mimicked Jamie incredulously before retorting, "I thought you said they were friendly and harmless! Why have they put me here? What do they want with me?" Although slightly taken aback by Jamie's panicked outburst, Hannah tried to reassure him.

"It's all right; Captain Broom saw you touching Rosebud and thought you were attacking her. There is no need to look so alarmed," she said, seeing Jamie's scared expression, "Both Rosebud and I cleared up the misunderstanding. We persuaded the Chieftess to bring you here until you recovered…"

"Then why have they _sealed_ me in here like some wild beast?" retorted Jamie, starting to feel very claustrophobic in the cramped burrow, "What, they intend to leave me in here to starve until I am too weak to defend myself, so they can have an easier time finishing me off?" he said, remembering all those wild stories of jungle savages that would capture and kill any strangers trespassing into their territory.

"Oh, stop being such an alarmist!" snapped Hannah, "If they thought you were a threat they would have killed you already. This confinement is only meant as a _precaution_; you are a stranger to them, not to mention a human, and Captain Broom insisted on a temporary restriction to appease the others. Word of your arrival has spread fast; there will be a meeting held in the morning, to present you to the rest of the warren. Don't worry," she added hastily, seeing Jamie's anxious look, "They know you mean no harm and will not harm you in any way…unless you give them a good reason to do so."

Although relieved to hear that at least these rabbits didn't mean to rip him to pieces, being sealed up in this hole with his dog felt highly frustrating for Jamie. He felt very grateful when Hannah volunteered to stay with him and Snitter until morning when they would let him out…or so they had said. After a while, Jamie finally regained his confidence and, tired of waiting, settled down to sleep, Hannah curled up under his arm. For a while he listened to her softly humming in his ear as she slept, touched by her motherly fondness towards him, before drifting off to sleep himself.

Several hours later, Jamie woke with a start at the sounds of grunting; his captors were heaving the boulder blocking the entrance. Anxiety gripped him as he noticed Hannah had left him while he had been asleep. Hastily grabbing Snitter, who was about to dart for the opening exit, by his collar, he backed away towards the far wall of the burrow, putting as much space between himself and whoever was coming. Keeping his knife with the largest and sharpest blade open behind his back, he braced for, what he hoped wouldn't turn out to be, an unfriendly greeting.

The boulder slid aside, revealing several rabbits, including Captain Broom. With the exception of the aged Owsla Captain, the rest were all blind and sickly-looking, their milk-white eyes staring vacantly in Jamie's direction. Yet the boy could tell from their overcautious, if not dark, expressions that they knew exactly what he was and that his presence here was hardly in their good books.

For a few minutes, they just stared silently at each other, Captain Broom studying Jamie, as if trying to figure him out, while the teenager stared back nervously, wondering what they were about to do to him. For an instant, he wished Hannah had stayed with him; although only a small mouse, her moral support would have been most welcome now. Finally, Captain Broom spoke.

"Come along ithe. Flyairth-rah awaits you." Although the aged rabbit's voice had a strong air of firmness and authority, to Jamie's relief, he and the guards seemed more cautious than hostile. Feeling nervous, he slowly got to his feet, still holding the growling Snitter by the collar, and made his way towards the exit. Broom's escorts, hearing him approach, stepped aside to let him through, before taking up positions behind and on either side of him, with amazingly good accuracy for blind and scentless rabbits. Giving him a nudge, they urged him forward.

They set off through the warren, past many runs and burrows, which resembled an underground maze. As they walked along, Jamie, using his dimming glowstick to see where he was going, caught sight of the miserable population of Thinial residing in their burrows. Blind and sickly-looking rabbits with shabby fur and ugly myxomata, some so bad, they looked almost like rotting corpses come alive. The air was thick with the unpleasant smell of sickness and disease, like the quarantine ward of a hospital. Just as Jamie was imagining what life must be like for these unhappy rabbits, which literally existed on the brink between life and death, every minute of every day, his escorts ushered him into another chamber.

This cavern seemed to be the largest in the warren, resembling some sort of mass assembly point. A crowd of rabbits stood around a raised earthen platform, where the Chieftess sat. Flyairth-rah, just like her people, was blind and in poor health, yet Jamie could feel the air of authority and strength radiating from the aged doe before him. As if sensing his presence, the Chieftess turned to stare in his direction, her sightless eyes fixing him with an unbending gaze, making him feel like he was being x-rayed. Finally, she spoke in plain English, "Do you understand what I am saying, young ithe?"

"Y…yes ma'am," Jamie stammered, unsure as to how to address the rabbit that was apparently in charge round here. He was caught off-guard by the buzz of amazement that instantly broke out all around the chamber, as the spectators became aware of his talking abilities, "He can talk! What is this magic? Where does he come from?" It was only after a loud series of stamping from Captain Broom that the crowd quietened down, letting their Chieftess continue questioning the newcomer.

"I believe you are wondering why we have brought you here," Flyairth went on, her voice turning rather frosty, "Captain Broom claims he saw you about to attack my niece." At these words, Jamie felt his insides curl up in anticipation; perhaps Hannah had been wrong about his hosts not believing him to be a threat? But Flyairth's next words quickly diminished that aspect, "However, Rosebud and Hannah swear you risked yourself to save their lives. Furthermore, they say you've rid us of those miserable rats that have been terrorising our home for hrair seasons. Is this true?"

"Well, it was kind of an accident really, but yes, I did do all that," Jamie stammered, uncertain if the old doe believed him or not. The furious muttering from all the spectators told him there were many minds expressing doubts; to his utmost relief however, Flyairth, after a few seconds of silence, nodded her head.

"I believe you young one; you needn't fear of any harm coming to you by our paw." Although her voice remained stern, Jamie was relieved it was no longer cold. The Chieftess continued questioning him, "Who are you and where do you come from?"

"And just _what_ in Frith's name is he doing here?" interrupted another rather mean-looking rabbit, one of the escort guards, with a snarl of hatred, "Is he a spy…?"

"Silence Prake!" snapped Flyairth sternly, annoyed at being interrupted. Although the rabbit Prake held his tongue, the other spectators apparently shared his concerns and more as they continued firing questions or expressing strong disapproval, "How can he talk like us? Maybe he is another instrument of the Black Rabbit of Inle sent to trick us and infiltrate our warren? Flyairth-rah, we must drive him out or kill him outright! Ithel can't be trusted…"

"That's enough Milmown!" barked Flyairth to the tharn doe, causing her to fall silent, before turning back to Jamie, "Now then young one, you were saying?"

"My name is Jamie. I come from Newtown Common, a village not too far away, on the other side of the Enborne River. A few days ago my father went missing and presumed dead, so I've come looking for him. I just didn't expect to find…"

"A village on the far side of the river, you say?" interrupted Flyairth, her voice suddenly turning frosty again, "You mean to say you come from the Dark Territory?" Although Jamie had no idea what this Dark Territory was, he realised it had to be a very sensitive topic for these rabbits, for all the spectators were suddenly on edge again.

"I knew it! He _is_ one of them! Kill the wretch! Give him a taste of his own poison!" Jamie felt his stomach bottom out, fighting a strong urge to panic, as the crowd seemed about to strike. Beside him, Snitter, sensing an imminent conflict, started growling dangerously. Before any trouble could break out however, someone else stood up to Jamie's defence.

"Stop it, all of you!" Rosebud cried, stepping forward, her sightless eyes shining with fierce determination, "Jamie saved my life and Hannah's. You have no right to judge him because he is a human, or because he can talk like us, or because from where he comes from, or whatever! I may be blind but I know for a fact he means no harm!" The remaining spectators looked as if they wanted to start yelling at her, yet refrained, probably because she was the ward of their Chieftess. Instead, they all turned to Flyairth who seemed deep in thought, apparently torn between answering to her people's fear and her ward's feelings for the stranger. Finally, she spoke.

"While I can appreciate my niece's sense of gratitude, I have no intention of negating my people's concerns regarding our…visitor," she said in a reasonably calm tone, yet Jamie could sense that her cool tone made it obvious that she sided more with her people's opinion, rather than Rosebud's, "I suggest we retire and debate the matter in privacy. In the meantime, I am placing Captain Broom in charge of our guest; the young ithe is to remain under his watch and is not to leave the warren without escort until further notice. Everyone, dismissed."

While Flyairth and, what appeared to be, her second-in-commands and other high-ranking rabbits retreated into another chamber to deliberate, the warren commoners returned to their daily activities. In an orderly manner, which had apparently taken years of methodical training, each one of them left the assembly chamber when their name was called by a prefect, and made their way back to their burrows, using their whiskers to feel their way along. Jamie could still hear the blind rabbits' furious muttering about him as they left, leaving him in the company of Captain Broom, Hannah and Rosebud.

A short while later, Jamie sat outside, talking with his new friends. Now that he was back above ground, he could see that Flyairth had indeed thought everything out well before settling down here with her fellow disabled rabbits. Thinial was located in a small clearing, surrounded by dense forest, which kept it virtually hidden from the prying eyes of predators. The northern bank of the Enborne River could be seen nearby, providing a fresh water source for the warren, as well as helping the blind find their way around by following the sound of the water.

After Rosebud had gotten permission from her guardian that Jamie be allowed outside, as long as he stayed within the boundaries of the warren and under Captain Broom's constant supervision, they had found a secluded spot a safe distance away from the rest of the rabbits, which were still on edge with the boy's presence. It was only then that Jamie realised how hungry he was; the last time he remembered eating was during dinner with his mother, the night before his flight in the glider. Unfortunately, he had no food on him, other than a fistful of stale peanuts he had found in his pocket, hardly enough for a hungry boy.

His eyes lit up when he spotted several apple trees nearby, the delicious-looking fruit hanging from their branches. While for the rabbits of Thinial couldn't climb trees, putting the apples completely out of their reach, for Jamie it was an cinch. Improvising a spear with a sharp end using his knife, he soon had a fine harvest of fresh, juicy apples, enough to satisfy his hunger and even treat his friends to a decent meal.

While Captain Broom remained mostly silent, avoiding conversation, yet his eyes, which were the only working pair in the warren, never leaving Jamie, Hannah introduced Rosebud to her new friend. The young doe was excited to meet Jamie, her initial fear of him entirely forgotten, as she thanked him for saving her and Hannah. They sat for hours, enjoying the day and exchanging stories of their lives and homes.

"So where you come from, _all_ humans can talk like us?" the blind doe asked excitedly, as Jamie told her about his home. Although still anxious about what Flyairth would decide for him, Jamie was beginning to enjoy the company of these strange giant rabbits. Back home, aside from his parents and Kenny, he had never had so much loving attention from anybody. In spite of her disability, Rosebud was very friendly and full of spirit as she continued questioning Jamie, "And you are saying you have never seen a talking rabbit before?"

"Yes, you guys are just like something out of an animated film, only very real," Jamie replied, reaching over to pat her between the ears. In contrast to earlier, when she had fearfully pulled away, this time she relaxed, enjoying the touch. Her monotonous and miserable life had suddenly taken a turn for the best with Jamie's arrival. "The rabbits _I_ know can't talk and are much smaller than any of you guys. And you say you haven't ever seen a talking _human_ before?"

"No, the humans _we_ know are the equivalent of the animals you say _you_ know, only more savage," Rosebud replied sheepishly, weary of insulting her new friend. Of all the mysteries Jamie had encountered so far in this strange world, the most baffling of all was the fact that none of his new friends claimed to have never seen humans like him before, and vice-versa. How could this be possible?

Ever since arriving here, Jamie had first assumed that he had found something that had somehow gone unnoticed by the rest of the world; but now, he realised that these giant talking animals were as unaware of human existence as he was of theirs, which made no sense whatsoever. He estimated to be only several miles out of Newtown; even in this part of the country, the woods were regularly scouted by tourists, hikers, farmers and hunters all year round. How was it possible that these rabbits had apparently existed here unnoticed since the beginning of time, without ever having seen humans before? His thoughts turned to his cell phone, which was still off the air. Did this mean that something had happened to his home? Rosebud snapped him back to reality by nuzzling him in the shoulder, "Are you all right, Jamie?"

"Oh yes, just lost in thoughts," Jamie replied, gently pulling the doe onto his lap for a cuddle, while Hannah watched them with a warm smile. Captain Broom frowned a bit but didn't intervene. "Tell me, what is this Dark Territory your aunt was talking about?" Before Rosebud could reply however, Captain Broom, whose attention had been instantly redirected at the mention of the Dark Territory, answered instead.

"The Dark Territory is a forbidden and dangerous land on the far side of the river," he said, launching into the story of the event that had changed their lives forever, "I believe Rosebud and Hannah have already told you that we aren't natives to Thinial." For the first time ever, Rosebud and Hannah sat listening to the former Captain of Owsla's tragic story, one he had never recited to anyone before.

"Hrair seasons ago, I was Captain of Owsla at Sandleford Warren, under the rule of the great Threarah, who was also a close friend of mine. Anyway, at some point both Sandleford and Thinial were becoming overcrowded, so an expedition was sent, to venture into the unexplored Dark Territory in search of a suitable location to establish a new warren to accommodate our surplus population. Unlike customary procedure, where the Captain of Owsla leads an expedition, the Threarah insisted on leading instead, leaving me as Deputy Chief in his absence; a preparation for my upcoming promotion to Chief Rabbit of the new warren."

"A few days after the expedition set off, we were visited by a stranger, claiming to be messenger from another warren with whose Chief the Threarah had formed an alliance, and had come to make arrangements for some of our people to migrate to his warren on our Chief's orders. Then, the Threarah suddenly returned alone and injured, exposing him as a deadly enemy; as it turned out, this stranger was the warlord Chief Rabbit of another, dark warren of savage rabbits that enslaved or killed any strangers. The Threarah said he had found another warren called Redstone shortly before it was sieged by the Owsla of that same enemy warren called Efrafa. The Efrafans had tortured and killed his companions one by one, forcing him to reveal Sandleford's location. It was only by one of Frith's miracles that he managed to escape and make it back in time to warn us. Unfortunately, our problems were far from over…" Jamie listened as the aged rabbit continued his story.

"The savage stranger was forcefully driven out but swore he would make us suffer. Of course, we all dismissed it as a hollow threat…until the White Blindness struck us unawares. Thinial was the first to fall; a few foolish, inconsiderate survivors fled to our warren, bringing the plague with them. Soon, Sandleford was also on the brink of collapse so the Threarah had to make the executive decision to drive out anyone who showed the least symptoms, including myself and even his sister Flyairth. Somehow, I managed to retain my sight and sense of smell and helped round up as many survivors as possible training them to cope with their disability, to start life over…what little we have left of it anyway."

"And so here we have remained all these seasons, cut off from the rest of the world because of the potential of infecting other healthy rabbits. We never receive visitors and always make sure our warren remains hidden, to avoid attracting elil, against which we are utterly helpless. Those rats you drove off were only a hindrance compared to what a lendri or a homba could do to us. And that doesn't come close to the summer, when the Blindness flares up again from the ticks and fleas that still nest in our ears…" By this time, Jamie felt deeply touched and, knowing what he was up against, was determined to do something about it.

"I thing I might be able to help you," he said, "Back where I come from, my mother is a veterinarian…an animal healer," he explained, seeing the puzzled expression on his friends' faces, "She has a vaccine that can cure you all…" Rosebud, who had been snoozing on his lap, was on her feet in an instant, on fire with excitement and even Captain Broom had forgotten his stern military attitude and was all ears.

"You have a _cure_ for the White Blindness?" she gasped in amazement, "Then, you can give us back our eyesight and sense of smell? Make us whole again? Give us the chance of seeing our families again…?" But Jamie, who had seen the Myxomatosis vaccine being used on sick rabbits before, shook his head sadly.

"I am afraid it isn't that perfect; it can't restore your eyesight or sense of smell once they are lost. However," he went on, seeing Rosebud on the verge of tears, her hopes of seeing her parents and brothers again about to be shattered, "it should be able to clean up the virus from your system, making it possible for you to live among healthy rabbits again without fear of contamination. You should be able to return to your home warren without fear of getting anyone else infected…"

"Is this true?" asked a sharp voice from behind them, catching them off-guard. Jamie turned and saw Flyairth emerge from some nearby bushes, from where she had been eavesdropping. Concerned for her niece being in the company of a human with only a mouse and an old ruin of a rabbit to keep an eye on her, the moment she had finished her meeting, she had gone out to check on her. Her enhanced hearing had quickly picked up the excited voices of Rosebud, Hannah, the young ithe, and even Captain Broom conversing nearby. She had half-expected to catch the ithe up to no good and was amazed to find that her niece's judgement had been correct.

"Aunt Flyairth! By Frith, you gave me quite a turn! We were just…" Rosebud stammered, uncertain as to how her guardian would approve of her having so close physical contact with a potentially dangerous human. Jamie was thinking along the same lines but relaxed when he saw Flyairth smile.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you dear," the blind Chieftess said, "I couldn't help but listen; it seems I was right to trust your judgement after all. But what was that you were saying about having a cure for the White Blindness?" she asked, her expression turning serious again, turning to Jamie, who described the Myxomatosis vaccine best to his knowledge.

"The vaccine can't restore your eyesight or sense of smell, but it can remove the threat of the disease that is still in your blood and restore your health," Jamie explained, "At least that's what I know."

"Do you have that…_cure_ on you? Maybe you can provide here and now?" Flyairth asked, clearly interested in making the most of this unexpected opportunity; although it was well known that the White Blindness was incurable, the fact that this strange human could actually talk, something also supposedly impossible, gave her hope that maybe this ithe knew some miracle they didn't. Her smile faded as she heard Jamie's reply.

"No, I would need to get home and get it from my mother's infirmary. It would be impossible to make it on my own." Flyairth shook her head sadly, "Then I am afraid I can't persuade the others to let you stay." Rosebud instantly turned to her guardian, her sightless eyes shining with tears, "No Aunt Flyairth, please, you can't do that!"

"I am very sorry dear; believe me, I would have wanted your new friend to stay," she said and from her expression, Jamie could tell she truly meant it, "But I am afraid, I still have an obligation to my people. From their perspective, young Jamie is still a threat to us; if I were to use my authority and forcefully override their wishes, unrest and possibly revolt could break out. Dependence on each other is what keeps us alive; if we were to lose that now, we would all be doomed. I just can't risk it. On the other hand, if you provide us with that cure you speak of, I would be willing to take the risk…"

"It doesn't matter," Jamie said, placing a comforting hand on the doe's shoulder, "Either way, I can't stay here much longer; I still have to find my father. However, I promise you that I will come back someday…with the vaccine for all of you." Flyairth, Rosebud, Hannah and even Captain Broom looked amazed.

"But you owe us nothing…"

"I don't think ill of you because you are asking me to leave, to keep your people appeased; the four of you believe in me and that's good enough to earn my friendship in return. Don't worry; if there is any chance that I can help you regain your old life, I will make sure that you get it. Who knows, maybe someday, if it works, I might even earn the trust of the others as well…"

"Those spineless, narrow-minded, ungrateful wretches…" muttered Rosebud grimly, furious at her fellow rabbits for forcing her Aunt to send Jamie away like that, when he could in fact be the key to getting them out of their hollow lives.

"Mind your language Rosebud!" Flyairth scolded her niece, "Narrow-minded or not, we still owe them a lot for all the support they've shown us throughout our struggle to survive." She turned back to Jamie, "I have managed to persuade the others to let you stay for another night, but you must leave in the morning. In the meantime, if you need anything, just ask Captain Broom or Hannah. Goodnight." It was then that Jamie realised it was nearly nightfall; he had spent a whole day talking Rosebud, Hannah and Captain Broom.

Pretty soon, the prefect gave the word and all the rabbits began descending underground for the night. Jamie and his friends followed last of all, to avoid the other rabbits, leaving the sounds of stirring owls and other night predators above ground. Captain Broom's Owsla escorts were waiting for him at the entrance and quickly ushered him down to the same burrow where they had left him the night before.

Later that night, Jamie lay with Snitter in their burrow, by the light of his last glowstick. At least this time, the Owsla had refrained from sealing up the burrow, giving Rosebud and Hannah the opportunity to come and visit him as soon as the others were fast asleep. With Snitter dozing off in a corner, Rosebud sat beside Jamie, while Hannah snoozed on the boy's shoulder. In a few hours, it would be time for them to say farewell; and none of them felt ready for it, least of all Rosebud.

"I don't know what to say," the doe said, holding back tears, "All these seasons of exile, separated from my parents and brothers, I had always wanted a true friend (Hey, what do you call me then?" Hannah asked indignantly) and now…"

"Cheer up Rosebud," Jamie said encouragingly, "After all, I promised you I will be back someday. And then you're going to be free of this wretched life. Wait a minute…" he said, suddenly coming up with an idea. Turning to the sleeping Snitter, he removed his medical collar; aside from the standard collar bearing the dog's identification, Snitter also wore a second collar, lined with a chemical crust for protection against mosquito and tick bites. Remembering what Captain Broom had said about the rabbits of Thinial suffering the most during the summer, when the still infected ticks and flees in the area would multiply and ravage the warren, he just might have a way to help them out.

Taking the collar, he fitted it around Rosebud's neck; the doe cringed at having something fitted around her neck, "Wh…what in Frith's name are you doing?"

"This collar will protect you and those around you from further attacks of the Blindness until I return with the vaccine," he explained, "Also, my scent and Snitter's on that collar should repel most predators; I hear most animals turn tail and run at human scent." Although obviously only a temporary solution, the collar could hold out for several months or so, until Jamie could return with the vaccine.

"Thank you Jamie. I appreciate it," Rosebud said, giving her friend a friendly nuzzle, "And good luck with tomorrow; promise me you'll return to us safely. And should you see my parents and brothers on your journey, tell them I am still alive…" she said, holding back more tears.

"Don't worry; I promise I'll be back before you even have time to miss me!" Jamie replied, playfully nudging Rosebud in the side, who giggled, putting aside the sad thoughts of her family. After a few minutes of fun, she left to return to her burrow with Hannah, leaving him in peace.

Before settling down to sleep, Jamie took out his cellphone; after being in this strange place for nearly two days, he realised he should try and keep a log of his adventures. Since paper was scarce, the only source being the pages his SAS Survival Guide, which he didn't want to spoil with scribbles, instead he decided to put his phone to a different use. Although he couldn't transmit or receive, the phone's in-built video camera and memory chip would make a perfect visual diary. Setting the camera to recording mode, he turned the phone round, so the lens was facing him.

"My name is Jamie McEwen," he said, uncertain as to what to say, "I am 13 years old and I live in Newtown Common, Hampshire England. On the 31st December 2012, I went looking for my father, who had gone missing during a rescue mission with his chopper. While following his flight path, I encountered a strange Aurora, which, crazy as it sounds, seems to have turned the whole world topsy-turvy. The whole countryside is now inhabited by giant, talking animals. I have befriended a mouse called Hannah and a doe called Rosebud, the inhabitants of a plague warren called Thinial, located on the northern bank of the Enbourne River. All the rabbits here are blind from Myxomatosis but I have offered to help them find a cure if and when I make it back home. This is my second day; tomorrow, I will be going to inspect a crash site I observed from my glider. I hope it may put me back on Dad's trail…"

Finished with his first log entry, Jamie saved it in the phone memory and put the phone away. Aside from the visual log, he had also made sure to take several photographs of the Thinial rabbits, which could help his mother identify the disease for the vaccine. As a token of gratitude, he had also taken some time that afternoon before curfew to harvest as many apples as he could, leaving the rabbits with a fresh supply for their larder, enough to last them for the next couple of months at least, sparing them the trouble of having to blindly scavenge around for food, or _flayrah_, as Rosebud called it.

As he settled down to sleep, using his folded-up jumper as a blanket, and Snitter as a pillow, his mind filled with unpleasant thoughts of what he would find at that crash site tomorrow; perhaps he would only find his father's remains to bury? In spite of his uneasy thoughts, he was exhausted and soon drifted off to sleep, plagued with nightmares of a giant one-eyed rabbit, giant savage humans and a sneering man dressed in black shooting his father in the head…

**Author's note:** Sorry for the lengthy delay, but I was experiencing writer's block, among other problems. Coming up next, Jamie departs for Sandleford and finds the first signs of his father… Remember, this part of the story is written in parallel with the first. This chapter takes place around when Alan and co were at Cowslip's warren, when Robbins revealed his treachery. Enjoy and please review!


	9. Chapter 9 From Wanderer to Rescuer

True to his agreement with Flyairth, Jamie was ready for departure early the next morning. Before anyone else was up for morning silflay, Flyairth, Captain Broom, Rosebud and Hannah came to escort him out and bid him goodbye. Hastily gathering up his meagre belongings and taking Snitter by his lead, he followed his friends to the exit. As soon as they reached the boundaries, the rabbits paused, as Jamie walked away. Turning to look at his friends one last time, he said, "I promise you when I return I'll have the vaccine for you. You just try and hang on as long as possible."

"Don't make promises you can't keep young one," said Flyairth with a sad smile, "Frith be with you!" Rosebud was holding back too many tears of sadness to say farewell, while Hannah tried in vain to comfort her. Only Captain Broom stood formally and expressionless, yet he too, couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at Jamie's departure. The boy gave them a final wave and was gone, into the woods and out of sight. The rabbits paused for a few minutes until Jamie's footsteps faded away before turning and making their way back to the warren. But not all of them.

Leaving her aunt and Captain Broom to go up ahead, Rosebud turned to her carer mouse, _"Hannah, I want you to do me a favour; I want you to go with him."_ The mouse looked as if she had been slapped in the face.

"What! And what about my duty towards you? You need constant care…"

"_And you deserve your freedom,"_ Rosebud insisted, _"We still haven't repaid our debt to Jamie; what better than a travelling companion to watch over him on our behalf? And don't tell me you aren't the least curious to see his strange world up close?"_

"_Rosebud, I…"_ Hannah stammered, caught in a conflict of emotions. On one hand, she felt selfish at the thought of abandoning Rosebud who needed constant care; leaving her would make her already difficult life even worse, with no one to guide her around. On the other hand, Hannah secretly regarded life at Thinial as monotonous and hollow as Rosebud did, so the opportunity for such an adventure, to do something more with her life, was irresistible. _"Do you mean it?"_ Rosebud nodded.

"_No point watching your life go by over a hopeless case,"_ she said, _"You have done your duty towards me and more; it's time you took control of your life. Don't worry about Aunt Flyairth; I'll explain to her and I am sure she'll understand. Well, off you go then!"_ Giving her friend a last farewell nuzzle, Hannah turned and followed Jamie's trail, not daring to look back in case she changed her mind. Rosebud listened to her friend's footsteps fade in the distance, calling, _"Make sure you bring him back to us! Frithaes rusamitha!"_

Meanwhile, Jamie and Snitter were heading upstream, towards where Jamie remembered seeing that mysterious crash site from his glider. As he paused to consult the button compass on his Swiss Army knife, he heard Snitter suddenly start to bark excitedly. Looking around, expecting trouble, he was surprised as he saw a familiar mouse come running out of the bushes, calling to him, "Jamie, wait for me!"

"_Hannah_? What the heck are you doing here?" he gasped, rushing over to greet her. Taking her up into his hands, to protect her from Snitter's excited nuzzling, he patted her between the ears, delighted to see her, "Did Rosebud sent you?" She nodded, not uttering a word. Jamie didn't dare inquire any further; although overjoyed of her decision to go with him, he knew that it must have been a hard decision on her part to leave her friend behind, to accompany him on his journey. Instead, he placed her on his shoulder, "Come on then, let's go."

Although the crash site was less than four miles northwest of Thinial, the trek through the forest took all morning. After several hours of slowly wading their way through endless, jungle-like vegetation, they finally came to a small clearing. As Jamie had feared, everything man-made had disappeared as if it had never existed; every road, service pylon, the town of Newbury, the people, everything had vanished without a trace. So it came as quite a shock to him when he spotted the first trace of human activity he had seen in the past two days at the foot of a tree: a grave.

For an instant, Jamie was petrified. There was no doubt about it; the rectangular-shaped patch of freshly dug earth at the foot of the tree, testified to the final resting place of a human being. Glancing at the overhead tree, which served as a tombstone for the unknown person, he noticed something shiny hanging on a chain where the name of the deceased was supposed to be engraved. He picked up a military dog tag, bearing the name of the dead man tucked beneath the ground:

CORPORAL JOHN HARRISON

AIR MEDIC OF HER MAJESTY'S ROYAL AIR CORPS

GREENHAM ROYAL AIR FORCE BASE, NEWBURY

RAF-218

"Blimey, it's Mr Harrison, the medic from Dad's chopper!" Jamie gasped, recognising the name, as well as the identification number of the chopper. For the first time in days, he had finally found the first trace of his father. The fact that someone had taken the time to bury Harrison, as well as the many fading footprints on the ground around the grave, confirmed that there had to be some survivors out there, hopefully including his father.

Suddenly, he was snapped out of his thoughts by a new sound coming from above; the sound of an aircraft engine! Sure enough, looking up at the patch of sky through the trees, he saw a small plane fly overhead, heading towards the south. Even from ground level, Jamie could tell it was no other than Johnson's Cessna. In an instant, he was running to and fro, waving his arms, desperately trying to draw attention.

"Help! Down here! Hallo!"

Reaching into his survival kit, he took out the distress flare. Before he could use it however, the plane was gone from sight, the sound of the engine fading away in the background. Jamie sighed in disappointment; with the plane flying _away_ from his location, he could never hope to attract attention now, not even if he set the whole forest ablaze. He swore, remembering the glider's ELT he had left behind on the glider; if he had only thought of taking it with him, he could have signalled for help with it… However, the sight of that plane had boosted his confidence that there were indeed other people out there. They continued on their way.

It was mid-afternoon when they finally came to a meadow, where they decided to rest and eat. While Hannah looked around for her favourite acorns, Jamie found plenty of blackberries growing on some nearby bushes to eat, as well as a couple of apples he had kept from Thinial, cramped in his pockets. Snitter was having the biggest problem finding nourishment as he walked around miserably, scavenging for anything edible.

Suddenly, as Jamie walked behind a tree to go to the bathroom, he noticed something that made his heart jump: another grave marker! Just like Harrison's, it was another shallow grave at the foot of the tree, the name of the deceased carved onto the bark.

"'Julio Andre'…" Jamie read aloud, "Bloody hell, it's the pilot who worked for Ken's dad at the flight club! The one who was flying Johnson's plane!" Nearby, he also found the remains of a campfire, as well as recent tyre tracks on the ground, from where the plane had originally landed and then taken off. Following the tracks, he came to a waterhole on the edge of the clearing, where he found some sort of improvised ramp fashioned out of timber, lying flattened in the water. Beside it also lay a discarded block-and-tackle, fashioned out of a steel cable and some other mechanical components, testifying to a recent salvage operation. Examining the crude block-and-tackle, he suddenly recognised the origin of the components.

"This is from the winch from Dad's chopper," Jamie thought, piecing everything together, "So someone fashioned this pulley using components from the chopper, to salvage the plane and escape. But then, _where_ is the rest of the chopper?"

His mind instantly sprang back to the plane he had seen from the woods. If the pilot was dead and buried, then _who_ was flying it? Was it Johnson? Was it his father? His thoughts were cut short when Snitter reappeared with Hannah riding on his back. Jamie instantly noticed that the dog was carrying something in its mouth, something other than food…

Jamie frowned as he retrieved a strip of charred, shredded leather from the dog's mouth. Glancing at the coloured side, he recognised it as torn lining from an aircraft seat. The trail for finding his father seemed to be becoming clearer by the minute. He turned to Hannah, "Where did you find this?"

"In a clearing, behind those trees," she explained, "There are lots of these things lying scattered all over the place. You better came and take a look." Following Hannah and Snitter through the trees, they came to another clearing, revealing a scene of total destruction. He had finally reached the crash site he had seen from his glider.

The trees on the edge of the clearing where Jamie stood were all broken and mangled at their tops, almost as if some giant blade had chopped away at them. Looking at the foot of a tree, he found a twisted sheet of black metal, which he recognised as part of a shattered rotor blade. Nearby also lay a larger fragment, which he recognised as the severed tail of the chopper, its rotor blades all mangled, yet the identification number remained clearly stamped on the yellow metal. It seemed that the chopper had been flying too low, causing the tail and rotor blades to be torn off when they grazed the treetops, resulting in a crash.

The clearing was littered with scattered debris from the crashed chopper: chunks of fuselage, fragments of shattered fairings, parts of rotor blades, engine components, as well as a large collection of objects from the chopper's onboard equipment, which had been thrown overboard on impact; harnesses, bolts, scraps of paper, parts of tools, among other bits of junk. Running the length of the field was a trail ploughed into the ground, undoubtedly caused by the chopper, when the fuselage had cartwheeled across the plain.

Staring at the far end of the clearing where the trail led, Jamie saw where the chopper had come to rest; the surrounding trees were incinerated and collapsed, as if they had been exposed to a massive fireball, which had been the chopper exploding. The fire of course had long since gone out but the strong smell of burning in the air, as well as the ashes still blowing in the breeze told Jamie it was very recent. Even from where he stood he could see the blown-up fuselage lying amidst the collapsed trees, burnt beyond recognition. As he approached the wreck, he found an interesting surprise.

Surrounding the incinerated remains of the chopper was a network of deep trenches; the ground had collapsed from the shock of the impact, exposing, what seemed to have been, a maze of tunnels beneath the forest floor. In an instant, Jamie realised that the chopper had annihilated another warren, similar to Thinial, in the crash. At that moment, a new smell reached his nostrils: the smell of dead flesh. The smell instantly chilled him to the bones; maybe his father's remains were somewhere under that wreckage? Suddenly, Hannah's voice caught him off-guard.

"Jamie, over here!"

Hurrying over to her, she saw her pointing at a pair of crosses, fashioned out of bits of piping from the wreckage, standing erect close by. Snitter was sniffing at the pile of earth beneath the crosses, as if picking up a familiar scent beneath the soil. Jamie felt his insides coil up as he recognised two more graves. Shakily, he walked up to read the dog tags hanging from the crosses, expecting to see his father's name. But, to his utmost relief, that was not to be the case.

"Pilot Richard Smith and Air Mechanic Lance Stacy," he read aloud, "That leaves Dad as the only one who could have buried them. So, he is still alive! But where did he go?" Looking around for any further clues, he found a couple of empty fire extinguishers on the edge of the ruins, testifying to an attempt to control the fire caused by the explosion. Remembering the plane he had seen earlier, he finally pieced everything together.

_Johnson must have found Dad; after putting out the fire and burying the dead, they used the Cessna to get out of here. I came here expecting to find him stranded while he is already on his way home with the rest of the survivors! So that's where I have to get to right away!_ His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Snitter's furious barking. The dog had wondered off and was barking at something amidst the ruins of the collapsed warren. His first thought was that it just pure excitement, until he heard Hannah's terrified cries.

"Frith of Inle! Jamie, come here!" Stumbling over piles of debris and ashes, he hurried along a trench, which had once been a burrow, until he came to a landslide blocking the entrance to a burrow; Snitter was clawing and sniffing furiously at the rubble while Hannah stood petrified with shock at something. Before Jamie could even ask what was the matter, he heard it: Voices! Desperate voices, muffled by the barrier of debris, could be heard from behind the cave-in. With cold dread, Jamie's attention instantly shifted to the realisation that there was someone trapped in there, buried alive.

"Val! On veth nahl anisth! Pli lay hlaf thli? Naylfa-rah Hleengar? Thlayli? Threarah?"

Although Jamie couldn't understand what they were saying, what few words he had picked up from Hannah and Rosebud being insufficient, he knew whoever was trapped down there was in big trouble. Pressing his ear against the cave-in, he called, "Hallo? Can you hear me?" The voices on the other side instantly intensified with excitement, yet Jamie could still make out nothing understandable. Then, he suddenly heard a stern voice bark something in Lapine, silencing the others, before answering in English.

"Hallo, up there? I can hear you! Who is it? Are you outskirter or Owsla? Why are you speaking in Hedgerow?" The voice sounded surprisingly calm and commanding, reminding Jamie of someone with strong military discipline, like his father. Delighted at having established contact and determined to help, Jamie answered back.

"I am a h…" he stammered, catching himself in the nick of time, as he realised that he was talking to more of those giant rabbits, which he knew by now, would unquestionably see him as a threat. "I…I am a stranger, passing through. I have come to help you…" Although fortunately the rabbit behind the cave-in seemed to buy it, Jamie's hesitation in answering apparently hadn't gone amiss.

"I am Lieutenant Ash of the Sandleford Owsla. What is your name stranger?" he called back with a tone of suspicion in his voice, causing Jamie to hesitate again. His name would definitely sound nothing like a rabbit's name; although the truth would inevitably come out soon or later if he ever got them out of there, he knew he needed their trust and cooperation if he was to get them out of that death trap alive. Turning frantically to Hannah, he whispered, "Help me think up a rabbit's name I can use. Hurry!"

"S…Sunflower! That's it!" they both cried in unison as Jamie turned back to the blocked tunnel entrance where Lieutenant Ash and his companions were trapped, "My name is Sunflower."

"All right Sunflower, this isn't the time for further introductions. Are there any more rabbits with you to help us dig? We have been struggling to clear this run for days now, before our air runs out…" But Jamie, who knew something more about being trapped in a closed, unventilated space, interrupted.

"No, listen carefully. You must stop digging right now or you'll only use up all your air faster. Pass the word to your friends to keep calm and try and take shallow breaths, while we try and…" But another unknown voice, hearing his apparently absurd instructions, interrupted.

"Stop digging you idiot hlessi? We can barely breath as it is and it's only getting worse! What, are you suggesting we just sit here like fools, and wait for the Black Rabbit to take us all?" Jamie was glad when Lieutenant Ash's stern voice cut off his interrupting companion's sarcastic remarks.

"Be quiet Nose-in-the-Air!" he barked, causing his companion to fall silent, yet the furious muttering in the background told Jamie whoever else was trapped down there shared Nose-in-the-Air's sentiments. Ash's voice shifted back to Jamie, "What is your plan Sunflower?"

The boy considered for a moment, feeling at a loss; although he had read plenty of emergency scenarios, he never actually had to deal with a real crisis, least of all on his own. But he had to try something fast, or else those rabbits trapped below would soon die of asphyxia. Doing some quick thinking, combining common sense with what little he knew about recovery procedures, he called back into the cave-in.

"We are going to try and shift some of this mess, to clear an exit for you. First, we need to find a way to get some fresh air down there for you to breathe while we dig." Picking up a sheet of metal from the chopper's shattered fuselage, he improvised a shovel and, with Hannah's help, attacked the cave-in. Unfortunately, he hadn't shoved more than half a dozen armfuls, when more earth trickled down, rendering his efforts futile. There was no way to clear a hole, to give the trapped rabbits some air, let alone get them out of their living tomb.

Looking around frantically, his eyes fell upon some fragments of hollow piping torn from the chopper's monorail lying amidst the chopper wreckage. Running up to them, he picked up the strongest and most intact pieces, along with some scrap wire and some other odds and ends to help him in the digging. Hurrying back to the collapsed burrow, they set to work.

With Hannah standing on a rock, holding open the survival guide for Jamie to read the instructions under _Avalanches and Rescue_, the closest scenario he could find, he got to work. Using a length of unbent piping, he forced it through the soft soil of the cave-in. After a few minutes of hard work, he felt a slight jolt, followed by a gasp from below ground, as the pipe penetrated the cave-in. Then, using a thin stick, he forced it down the pipe, clearing out the soil that was blocking it. Finally, he got a whiff of stale, damp air, thick with carbon dioxide, which came hissing out of the pipe.

"Does this help?" he called through the pipe. The sounds of Ash and his companions taking deep breaths of relief told him that he had done it; the pipe had created a 'snorkel' through the asphyxiating earth, providing a lifeline for those trapped below ground. Next came the hard part: the task of shifting the cave-in blocking the exit.

Jamie had realised by now that the cave-in consisted mostly of loose, crumbly earth, amidst a few scattered boulders and collapsed tree trunks. If he simply tried shifting the earth, more would come trickling down like sand in an hourglass, maybe even cause another cave-in that would crush Ash and the others trapped below. The only way around this would be to set up supports for an escape tunnel, which would have to tunnel in at least six feet deep. And the only materials he had for the job were the scraps of wreckage from the chopper.

With Ash and his companions now out of danger from suffocation, Jamie and Hannah got to work constructing a passage through the cave-in. Loose hull longerons were lashed together with strips of electrical wiring to form A-frames, while chunks of fuselage skin, which were hammered flat with stones, were used for planking. Jamie and Snitter laboured frantically, clearing out piles of earth and debris, while Hannah kept a watchful eye for any signs of another cave-in.

Work continued frantically for the next two hours; slowly a passage, enforced with charred chopper components, penetrated the cave-in. Dirty and sweaty, Jamie felt his hopes rise for those trapped in there. Then, with only a couple more feet left to go, they hit an obstacle; a collapsed tree trunk lying crosswise before them loomed into view as they cleared the soil around it. Jamie swore in exasperation; things weren't looking good after all.

"We need a lever to budge this thing," he said, picking up a spare pipe leftover from the supports. Wedging it between a stone jack and the log, he put all his weight against it, struggling to move it. But it was too heavy and the pipe was hollow, unable to withstand that pressure, causing it to bend. Tossing the now useless pipe away, Jamie turned to Hannah, "It's no use; we need to start over…"

At that moment, another sound caught them unawares; the sound of crumbling earth, followed by the panicked cries of the trapped rabbits, "There is earth pouring in! It's everywhere! Get us out of here!" With sickening dread, Jamie realised their digging had created a disturbance, causing the already unstable burrow to continue disintegrating. Now it was only a matter of minutes before that small underground air pocket filled up, suffocating Ash and his companions. And there was no way to get them out of there anymore…or was there?

Remembering something that just might do the trick, Jamie jumped to his feet. Turning in the direction of the semi-complete passage, he called, "Try and hold out for five more minutes. Shift the falling earth towards the far end of the burrow but stay close to the cave-in. We'll have it unblocked in a moment!" Without a word of explanation to Hannah or Snitter, he turned and hurried back to the Cessna landing site.

Rushing over to the waterhole where Johnson's plane had originally crash-landed, he picked up the block-and-tackle someone had improvised from the chopper remains. Wrapping the heavy steel cable and pulley around his shoulder, he carried it back to the digging site. If this could get a stuck ton-and-a-half heavy aircraft out of the marsh, then it should work just as well with the collapsed tree trunk blocking the tunnel.

Not pausing for a breath, weary of the time quickly running out for those trapped underground, he secured the pulley to a nearby tree and extended the other end towards the cave-in. Securing the hooked end of the cable around the collapsed tree trunk, he grabbed hold of the other end and put all his strength against it. As he heaved, the trunk budged forward a few inches, causing the loose earth above it to come loose. The planking and supports instantly sprang into action, preventing the escape tunnel from caving-in; unfortunately, the burrow on the other side was another matter.

No sooner had the tree started moving, when they heard the terrified cries of the rabbits again; only this time it was followed by a deep rumbling sound as the burrow, finally losing its last ounce of integrity it had left, began collapsing in earnest. The panicked voices of Ash and the others were heard screaming, "Lord Frith, no! Hurry Sunflower! It's almost filled up! Please!" Jamie, Hannah and Snitter doubled their efforts.

Holding Snitter against his chest and with Hannah clinging onto his shoulder to add more counter-weight, Jamie grabbed hold of the pulley cable one more time and put all their weight against it. Finally, the collapsed tree came free and fell away, completing the final step in the digging process. With the cave-in finally cleared, Jamie, Hannah and Snitter caught a glimpse of a small, semi-collapsed burrow beyond, where several dirty and scared rabbits lay huddled together. But only for an instant.

No sooner had the cave-in cleared than the damaged burrow finally gave way. Almost as if fate intended these rabbits to perish anyway, the roof suddenly disintegrated and came crashing down in large amounts of loose earth and rock. In an instant, Ash and his companions were once again buried, this time completely, pinned beneath the debris of their demolished warren. But Jamie wasn't about to give up on them yet.

Discarding the pulley, the boy and his friends rushed back to the new cave-in. Fortunately, the supports for the escape tunnel had withstood the collapse, leaving only a few inches of loose earth between them and those buried. Realising he only had a few seconds before the rabbits suffocated, Jamie got down on his knees and attacked the earth with his makeshift shovel, Hannah and Snitter helping out.

"Help me you two! Faster, they can't breath under there!" he shouted to Hannah and Snitter, who pitched in to help best they could. Suddenly, a furry paw shot out of the earth, the trapped rabbit struggling to escape its entrapment. With Snitter tugging as hard as he could, Jamie cleared the earth around the head, exhuming the semi-suffocated rabbit; Ash's face, blank with shock as well from the effects of asphyxia, stared back at him. For an instant, Jamie feared the rabbit might be dead but then he saw he was still breathing.

While Snitter, on Hannah's instruction, dragged the semi-conscious rabbit away, Jamie continued digging. Soon, another furry body appeared, followed by another, then another, then another and then another. All in all, seven giant rabbits were pulled out of their living tomb in the nick of time. But no sooner had they pulled them out of the ruins, than Lieutenant Ash finally regained full consciousness and realised who - or rather _what_ - his rescuer was. Jamie's eyes locked with those of the surprised Owsla rabbit's, bracing for the explosion. The time for yet another round of explanations had come.

**Author's note:** For those of you that are confused, Jamie found the ruins of Sandleford as Alan and co had left them. Ash and his group of survivors had been overlooked, leaving them to be found by Jamie. For those of you who remember character names, Ash was a minor character, briefly mentioned in the book, along with several others, which I kept for this story. The whole list is also on _Wikipedia_, should you wish to check it out. Also, the Cessna Jamie saw was being flown by Robbins after he had returned to Sandleford with Vervain, Avens and Mallow. Enjoy and please review!


	10. Chapter 10 Parting of the Ways

"Ithe! Look out!" Lieutenant Ash bellowed, leaping to his feet and jumping in a protective stance between Jamie and his dazed companions. His fellow survivors, also having recovered from their coughing and splattering, hearing the Owsla buck's words, were instantly on their feet, all staring at Jamie with expressions of utmost fear. The boy slowly approached them, weary of scaring them even more.

"Take it easy, I am not going to hurt you," he said, trying to sound as friendly as possible, hoping the dangerous glare Ash was giving him wasn't a sign of an imminent attack. For an instant, he expected the grey-furred buck with the magnificent mane circling his neck, to tackle him like Captain Broom had done back at Thinial. But it didn't happen. Instead, Ash managed to maintain his self-control and, still remaining cautious and vigilant, stared back at Jamie with a mixture of amazement and disbelief.

"Who in Frith's name are you ithe and what do you want? Are _you_ that fellow Sunflower I was talking to?" Although frustrated at the unnecessary amount of distrust every rabbit in this world seemed to place towards humans, Jamie was relieved that at least Ash didn't seem to see him as an immediate threat and attack him…not so far anyway. Unable to think up any good story that might appease them, Jamie spilled the truth.

"Yes, _I_ am Sunflower; I didn't think revealing myself to you earlier would have been a very good idea. My real name is Jamie. I came looking for my father who was here and found you guys instead…"

"Your father was here before you?" interrupted another rabbit standing beside Ash, "So you _are_ another of those miserable, talking ithel scum that destroyed our warren! I knew it!" he shouted, "Heartless, evil murderers, the lot of you! You are no better than your normal counterpart, killing and destroying everything in your path for sport…" At this Jamie lost his temper and rounded on the rabbit, who was insulting his father.

"Don't you talk about my Dad like that! He would never hurt anyone for sport! In case you haven't noticed pal, his own men perished alongside your people!" he snapped, pointing at the two graves of his father's dead crewmembers nearby, "And yet he took the risk to put out the fire before it could reduce the surrounding forest to ashes!"

"And he saved me from being eaten alive by a hawk! Not to mention having saved my blind friend from drowning!" snapped Hannah, also coming to Jamie's defence, "You dumb rabbits have just had a narrow escape from a horrible death and this is how you express your gratitude?"

Unfortunately, this only seemed to infuriate the incredulous rabbit even more as he starting advancing on Hannah as if about to strike her, "Why, you insolent little…!" But Lieutenant Ash, who had been listening intently to Jamie's explanation, as if trying to figure him out, held the advancing rabbit back.

"Sergeant Willow, you are out of line! Fall back in and hold your tongue!" The rabbit Willow, seemingly recognizing Ash's authority, drew back, yet continued to glare at Jamie. Lieutenant Ash turned back to the strange human that had exhumed them from their living tomb and spoke in a firm, yet calm voice.

"Young ithe, while we are all grateful for getting us out of that death trap, you must understand my companions' distrust of humans. Like Sergeant Willow has already said, a recent visitation of others like you resulted in the destruction of our warren. Don't get me wrong; I am not saying it was an act of aggression or that your father was responsible…"

"No offence taken," Jamie replied, cutting him off, seeing that they were getting nowhere, "It doesn't matter anyway. If you could just tell me what happened to my father, I'll be on my way." Finally understanding what Jamie wanted of them and realising they owed him a life debt, human or not, Ash decided to get to the bottom of this.

"I believe it would be easier if I told you the whole story about what happened here; then you'll know exactly as much as we do." In spite of the group's uneasiness in the boy's presence, not to mention Snitter's, whom Jamie held firmly by his lead to keep him away from the scared rabbits, Ash settled down and launched into his story of the calamity that had befallen Sandleford several days ago.

_Lieutenant Ash and Sergeant Willow of the Sandleford Owsla had just returned from their afternoon patrol. Ash was Deputy to Captain Holly and Willow was his personal aid, a privilege only entitled to the highest-ranking Owsla officers, namely the Captain and Lieutenant. Holly also had his own personal aid, a clowning Owsla Scout called Bluebell. _

_As they made their way down to the officers' assembly burrow, eager to be dismissed and go out for evening silflay, they were stopped by Holly, who suddenly came dashing in, in a state of alarm. Something was up. Clearing his throat to get everyone's attention, he addressed all of the Owsla present, "Attention you lot! Evening silflay had been temporary suspended. There has been some trouble in the outsider's neighbourhood. The Threarah has ordered us to investigate and detain any suspects. I will be leading a squad with Toadflax, Scabious, Pimpernel and Bluebell. Lieutenant Ash, you and your orderly will be in change of a backup squad, in case things get drastic."_

"_Drastic, sir?" asked Ash suspiciously, "What's the trouble anyway, an enemy invasion?" Holly, annoyed at being interrupted during an alert situation, rounded on his deputy and spoke in a calm, yet stern tone._

"_I will debrief you all once everyone is assembled! In the meantime, I need you to assemble another group of four rabbits you can fully trust, and get them ready. On the double!" Not wanting to irritate his short-tempered commanding officer any further, Ash obeyed and soon had his aid, as well as three other trusty scouts called Nose-in-the-Air, Pine Needles and Butterbur assembled and ready for further instructions. Once Holly had finished assembling his own rabbits, he launched into the debriefing._

"_This afternoon, officers Toadflax and Scabious reported having overheard a secret meeting in the outskirters' neighbourhood; it seems like those rascals have finally done it. According to the information overheard, it seems those reckless fools have found and are currently sheltering a…a strange talking ithe, with whom they are plotting a rebellion against our Chief." There was instant muttering of surprise and disbelief. Ash, knowing Holly to be the last rabbit in the world to believe something so absurd, let alone crack a joke while on active duty, was struck dumb. As if reading the minds of his Owsla, Holly went on speaking, never dropping his stern tone._

"_Although I agree it sounds rather absurd, the possibility still remains that those outskirters are plotting trouble. As loyal Owsla rabbits, it is our sworn duty to deal with such problems. Therefore, our task is to follow those traitors and apprehend those mysterious intruders they are aiding and abating. Move out!"_

_Although still sceptical, given Toadflax's reputation as a chronic liar, not to mention a bully towards outskirters and anyone lower than him in general, Ash called his rabbits together and they set off. They soon came to the outskirters' neighbourhood, a dingy place with only a few scattered, cramped burrows, in contrast to the spacious accommodations reserved for the elite. It didn't take them long to find the outskirters, currently out on silflay in the meadow on the edge of the boundaries. They could see several rabbits having a heated conversation, yet couldn't make any sense out of it from so far away._

_Signalling to the Owsla to stay out of sight, they took cover nearby, watching the outskirters' every move. As they sat waiting, Holly pointed out Hazel and Fiver, the two outskirters which Toadflax had named as the prime suspects, as well as Silver, another Owsla Scout and the Threarah's nephew, who was also suspected of being in it with them. Holly frowned in furious disapproval; he could expect the outskirters to turn traitorous, given how disrespectful they were towards authority, but one of his own rabbits to turn coat was an enormous stab to his pride, making Ash glad he wouldn't be in Silver's place when Holly confronted him. _

_Silver's 'betrayal' however didn't even come close to the surprise awaiting the entire Sandleford Owsla when yet another member of this secret 'plot' showed up: a big, burly rabbit called Thlayli, or Bigwig among his friends, another Owsla officer, who had been mysteriously unavailable when Holly had summoned everyone to order earlier. For an instant, Ash thought Bigwig had also realised the treachery and had come to investigate on his own; to everyone's surprise however, instead, he launched into, what appeared to be, a friendly conversation with the outskirters, causing Holly to realise that one of his most trusted officers was also in league with those traitors!_

_Soon, the outskirters, accompanied by Silver and Bigwig, headed off into the woods, on their way to meet the intruders they were concealing, just like Toadflax and Scabious had said. Making sure they remained at a safe distance, as not to draw attention until the right moment, the Owsla literally followed the bees to the honey. Soon, they came to another clearing, where they encountered a sight so unbelievable, it almost made their heads spin on their shoulders._

_So far, Ash had expected at most to find some wild humans that might have followed the outskirters back to the warren and were now prowling about the boundaries in search of easy prey. Instead, what he saw was beyond imagination, like a dream: The outskirters were meeting with some humans all right; only they were unlike any humans Ash, or any of his comrades, had ever seen before._

_They were amazingly small compared to their wild counterpart, hardly bigger than a rabbit, with an appearance unlike any living creature Ash had ever seen before. Their bodies, which were clean and groomed, were covered in some strange multi-coloured, loose layers of 'fur', giving them a most alien appearance indeed. To add to their surprise, these humans were also talking; although not Lapine, the obsolete Hedgerow, still spoken by most rabbits, was unmistakable. Nearby, they saw a strange bird-shaped hrududu, which resembled a hawk in size, yet its purpose was completely beyond comprehension._

_Meanwhile, the outskirters, with Hazel and Fiver in the lead, had gathered round and seemed to be engaging in friendly interactions with these strange humans. They could hear laughter and peaceful talking going on between them and Ash was seriously beginning to question if these strangers actually meant any harm at all, let alone be conspirators in a revolt. Captain Holly however, had entirely different ideas on how to handle this._

_Signalling to his Owsla to circle the clearing, to prevent any attempted escapes, he suddenly emerged from the clearing, revealing himself to the outskirters. In an instant, they had both the outskirters and the strange humans within their grasp, "Nobody is going anywhere. You are all under arrest!"_

_The outskirters, caught by surprise, seemed to realise they were in trouble, yet made no attempt to resist. Bigwig tried reasoning with Holly, only to be rebuffed and chastised for 'conspiracy to mutiny and aiding and abating an enemy.' When the runt outskirter, Fiver tried pleading with him instead, the short-tempered Captain of Owsla roughly pushed him back, snarling, "Learn not to speak out of line, you insolent little runt! Your overactive imagination has gotten you into enough trouble already." _

_Ash, feeling more sympathetic than his master, was about to intervene, when Fiver's brother Hazel, with an expression of fury on his face, stepped forward and threatened Holly, who, equally infuriated at being spoken back to by an outskirter in such a disrespectful manner, seemed about to strike. To everyone's surprise however, one of the humans stepped forward and broke up the argument before it could lead to a scuffle, promising no further trouble as long as he got to talk with the Threarah. Giving him a look implying that he still saw him as a thorn in his paw, not to mention a threat to their warren, Holly relented and ordered the Owsla to escort the prisoners into custody, leaving Ash and his orderly behind to guard the hrududu. _

_Although under orders not to touch anything, uncertain of what this alien contraption was capable of, Ash couldn't help but feel fascinated by the unfamiliar craftsmanship of the hrududu. By now he had come to realise it wasn't a living being at all as he had thought, but some sort of artificial device these strange humans apparently used. As he gently proceeded to sniff and nudge it with his paw, feeling the unfamiliar texture of the shiny material it was contrived of, the likes of which he had never seen before, he suddenly heard a voice that made him jump, "Ash, what in Frith's name are you doing there?"_

_Turning round in alarm, expecting to see Holly, who would probably chew his ears off for disobeying orders, he saw a doe standing nearby, looking horrified of him inspecting the alien contraption with such intimacy. Ash smiled as he recognised his sweetheart, Celandine. _

_The doe, one of the precious few in the warren, was of outskirter blood, whose family had perished from the White Blindness, leaving her in the care of Ash's aristocratic family. Upon reaching adulthood, their brother-sister relationship had blossomed into romance and they hoped to mate someday. Unfortunately, Ash's dedication to his Owsla duties, as well as the possibility of scandal of mating with a 'lowly outskirter', made it difficult. Nonetheless, their love for each other remained unchanged, as demonstrated from her coming to check on him after hearing of his escapade this evening._

"_Celandine! By Frith, you nearly gave me a fright there!" Ash said, rushing over to nuzzle her in greeting. The doe returned the nuzzling with equal fondness before her expression turned concerned._

"_I heard what happened," she said, her eyes darting from her beloved one to the hrududu Ash had been examining, almost as if fearful he had picked up something bad from it, "Are you alright?"_

"_Of course love, never better," he said in reassurance, while Willow watched the tenderness between the two with a slight expression of jealousy, "I daresay those strangers mean us no harm. I do hope the Threarah thinks along those lines too…" _

_Despite being a dedicated Owsla officer who was expected to trust the judgement of his superiors as well as carry out their orders without question or hesitation, deep down Ash resented the biased authority he served under. These humans hadn't acted hostile in any way as to warrant an arrest; yet, Holly had proceeded to take them and the outskirters into custody as if they were confirmed enemies. Unfortunately, Ash had little authority over this matter and any protest would only get on Holly's nerves, not to mention the Threarah's, who regularly threatened complainers with demotion._

_Later that evening, after Holly had returned and informed him the prisoners were secure, Ash returned to his burrow. There he met Nightshade, the Threarah's personal aid and bodyguard, who was a good friend of Ash's on the Council. Inviting him in for a bite of flayrah, his friend informed him of the news. The humans had been questioned by the Threarah and then safely locked up, while the outskirters that had been concealing them had been placed under house arrest, awaiting punishment. Bigwig and Silver, as well as Hazel and Fiver, who had been identified as the ringleaders of the 'revolt', had also been taken into custody. _

"_Those strange ithel have been detained, fortunately without a struggle," Nightshade said, taking a bite out of a cowslip, "Such a cheek that leader of theirs; I overheard him arguing with the Threarah that our warren is in danger of being destroyed…" Ash looked at his friend with a frown._

"_Danger of being destroyed? By what? Did he say anything?" he asked, feeling rather alarmed at the warning; although these strangers so far hadn't acted hostile in any way, or so Ash had heard, Holly hadn't excluded the possibility of trouble arising later on. Nightshade however showed little concern._

"_Come on Ash, whatever he was babbling about, it was no doubt hraka talk," he said, rolling his eyes, "Most likely they were trying to cook up a story, to worm their way out of trouble. Never you mind; the Threarah will deal with them properly when the time comes. Shame though; it would have been quite a story to share with visiting hlessil: how we once had a bunch of talking humans as our guests!"_

_After Nightshade departed, to return to his duties of tending to his master before turning in for the night, Ash lay awake thinking of what had happened today and that warning these strange humans had given the Threarah. Despite everyone's reassurance that it was nothing to be concerned about, he couldn't help but feel that they should take the arrival of these humans more seriously. What if they were indeed on to something?_

_His mind flashed to the outskirters that had only taken the initiative to try and get to know these strangers better and were now going to be punished for simply ignoring a superior authority that they knew wouldn't care. Ash cursed himself for not giving in to his feelings back in the woods and arguing with Captain Holly to listen to the outskirters' explanation first. So far, nobody had been able to find where these humans had come from, and, as far as Ash could tell, the Threarah had little interest in finding out, instead choosing to cover up the issue quickly and quietly before it attracted too much attention. The news of Toadflax and Scabious' upcoming promotions, to replace Bigwig and Silver, who had been axed from the Owsla for 'treason', had spread quickly, further adding to his disapproval._

_In spite of his uneasy thoughts, Ash felt exhausted and settled down to get some shut-eye, planning to do something about it in the morning. Perhaps he could take Holly aside at morning silflay and insist he demanded that Toadflax and Scabious recite their story and also have the outskirters give their own side of the story as well, before any further judgement was passed. Maybe he could go to the Threarah personally and ask to see the humans and listen to their story for himself…_

_He didn't know how long he slept, when he was suddenly awoken by an ear-splitting sound from somewhere above ground. Before he knew what was happening, a violent vibration, unlike anything he had ever experienced before, shook the burrow. Loose earth and other debris fell from the ceiling as the entire warren began disintegrating by the shock. In an instant, Ash was on his feet, running for the nearest exit._

"_Run for it! This place is falling apart!" he shouted, running past several rabbits, petrified with fear, and joining the mob struggling to reach the exit run. Suddenly, the ceiling split apart and came down over their heads like a waterfall of soil. Ash watched in horror, as the burrow started to shrink all around him from the rapidly spreading cave-in, as well as from the pilling-up bodies of rabbits crushed under the falling debris. _

_With his mind set on escaping, Ash abandoned all attempts to help those that couldn't be saved and bolted for his life. Breaking into a run, he run down the collapsing passages, furiously searching for a way out. But it was already too late; before he knew what was happening, he found himself trapped in a side burrow with several other rabbits that had made it there with him, including Willow, Nose-in-the-Air, Nightshade, Pine Needles, Butterbur and Celandine. Holly, the Threarah, Toadflax, Scabious, and the others were never seen again, presumably perished._

_Finding themselves buried alive in this underground air pocket, their first attempt was to try and tunnel out but found the damaged ground was too unstable for burrowing, making them realise that there was no escape without outside help. Finally, they settled down, listening for any signs of movement above ground, to try and attract attention. For a while, they held onto the hope that someone else had survived the destruction and would hear them. But no one had responded to their cries for help, forcing them to conclude that they were the only survivors._

_Left on their own, with nothing short of a miracle to save them, they soon gave themselves up for lost. While waiting to succumb to starvation or asphyxiation, they slowly came to the bitter realisation that those strange humans had been right all along. Although Ash had insisted that the fault had been on their part, given that the Threarah had chosen to ignore the warning, his companions, on the other hand, were convinced it had been those strange talking humans behind this calamity from the start. Apparently, there had been others like them out there and, in an act of brutal retaliation, had destroyed the warren by means of that mysterious force that had struck them. It was only until several days later when they finally heard the first voice outside and were able to attract attention…_

"And the rest of the story you know," Ash said, turning back to Jamie, "Now you understand why I was so cautious when I saw what you were…"

"And that is why the likes of you are not welcome here," spat Nose-in-the-Air, glaring at Jamie with hate and distrust, "I don't care if you've saved us; the blood of our friends and comrades is on your father's hands, accident or not, and we can never forgive that!"

"I agree," shouted the rabbit called Butterbur, "This young ithe has got his questions answered as requested; now, he must either leave here immediately or be driven out, by force if necessary, just like we should have done with those other humans the instant we laid eyes upon them!"

"Drive him out?" cut in Nightshade incredulously, "It isn't as if we have a warren left to drive him out of, to begin with!" Although he shared the Owsla Scout's wish of seeing the last of this human as soon as possible, being a more level-minded fellow, he was the first to realise the real problem at hand: with Sandleford destroyed, they were stranded out in the open, a very vulnerable situation for any rabbit. They would have to get moving soon, to find a new warren somewhere, before they attracted elil. As if reading his mind, Ash turned to his companions, for which he was now in charge, being the highest-ranking surviving officer.

"Quiet down, everybody! If I can have your full attention please? As you all know, we have a crisis; we need to find a new home as soon as possible. Now, if memory serves me, the nearest friendly warren in these parts is Thinial." Some of his companions exchanged worried looks, remembering the stories of the White Blindness that had wiped out the original population long ago, "Although I remember the danger of the White Blindness, I also happen to know that the disease dies with the victims; Thinial has been deserted from hrair seasons now, since the last of the sick died out, so the wind and rain will have cleansed the place of the threat. I am sure that will make a temporary home for us until we can rebuild…"

"Excuse me," interrupted Jamie, diverting Ash's attention back to him, "I don't think anybody should go there. I have just come from Thinial myself; there are rabbits still there, living under quarantine. Several of them said they were former members of your warren, driven out when they got infected…" At this, the rabbits all turned to stare at him in shock, rather than hate as before. For all they knew, the victims of the White Blindness had long since perished, shortly after they had been driven out to die. To hear that some of them were still alive after all this time met with great surprise…and disbelief.

"Thinial is still populated?" gasped Celandine, speaking for the first time. So far she had remained silent, unsure of how to treat this strange human. But after hearing of some plague survivors still living, possibly including her own parents, she could no longer restrain her curiosity. The others too had suddenly redirected their full attention back to Jamie, who launched into his own story. He told them everything; how he had sneaked out of his house in the middle of the night in search of his father, how he had flown through the Aurora, only to find a changed world on the other side, how he met Hannah and the rabbits of Thinial and his departure to pick up his father's trail, which had eventually brought him here to Sandleford.

By the time he was done, the rabbits were staring at him with a greater level of sympathy than before; with the presence of Hannah to confirm his story down to the last word, they now realised that not only did the newcomer mean no harm, but also shared a similar misfortune with them. Ash and Nightshade stood stone-faced, while Celandine was on the verge of tears after hearing that her parents Honey and Pebble were not among the Thinial rabbits. Some of them however still had different, and more biased, opinions.

"Some survivors of the Great Sickness are still alive? Balderdash! You think we are likely to buy any more of your lies, ithe?" sneered Nose-in-the-Air, "No rabbit can possibly survive so long blind and without his sense of smell! You are just trying to trick us…"

"Trick you, am I?" snapped Jamie, losing patience, as he took out his cell phone and showed them the photographs he had taken back at Thinial to show his mother, "Is this proof enough for you? Or is your nose still as high in the air as your name suggests?"

The rabbits gasped as they saw the pictures of the blind and sickly-looking rabbits on the screen, many of which they recognised as former friends and acquaintances that they had known as children. Nose-in-the-Air however, hearing Jamie's insult, was paying no attention to the proof before his eyes.

"How dare you, you insolent little miscreant! I'll teach you a lesson in manners…!" He was about to strike Jamie, but Ash, now realising that it would be suicide leading his friends to Thinial, held him back, "You hold your silence soldier! That's an order!" He turned back to Jamie, "So what do you suggest, ithe?"

"Well…" Jamie said, feeling uncertain; at best, he had expected each of them to go their own ways without coming to blows. To have them ask him for advice felt a bit too much of a responsibility for him. "I know my father is still alive and apparently trying to make his way home. I intend to try and catch up with him and make my way back as well. I suggest we stick together and help each other find our way to safety. Judging from all the tracks we saw in the woods, he is joined by a group, probably other survivors from your warren…"

"So that's where everyone else has gone?" asked Willow, realising for the first time, the curious absence of other survivors. Although they expected the majority of the Sandlefordians to have perished in the catastrophe, it struck him odd that there weren't any other groups of survivors around. Sure enough, sniffing the ground around the warren, they noticed a good number of fading rabbit tracks, as well as four sets of human footprints, heading away towards the south. There was no doubt that others had made it out alive, regrouped and departed in search of a new home, accompanied by the some of the same humans that had unintentionally destroyed their warren.

"So that's that then; we are all fit to travel, so we have to pick up the trail at once. They can't have gotten too far already. Our young friend can also help us find our way…" Although still rather uncomfortable of letting this strange human accompany them, Ash was right that it was their best bet to try and follow the rest of their fellow Sandlefordians out there, rather than risk seeking shelter at a plague warren. Unfortunately, some of his companions still thought otherwise.

"If this ithe thinks he can lead us anywhere, he's got another thing coming!" snarled Nose-in-the-Air incredulously, "Can't you see, they're headed straight towards the Dark Territory! How do we know the others haven't been taken away as _prisoners_? Can't you bloody fools see that this ithe is trying to trick us? No, by Frith, I refuse to follow him! I am going to make for Thinial; anyone who wishes to come with me, feel welcome." Beside him, his two friends Butterbur and Pine Needles muttered in firm agreement to his alternate plan.

"If you go there, you'll die or else become one of them!" Jamie retorted, shocked by the rabbit's blind stubbornness to see season, "You don't have to walk straight into another death trap to prove me wrong!" Ash seemed to be thinking along the same lines as well and found the perfect moment to step in and rounded on Nose-in-the-Air.

"Bucko, you are still under my command and I forbid you to take such a foolish initiative!" he spoke in a calm, yet firm voice, "I understand your reluctance in putting any faith in the help of a human but the prospect of running foul of White Blindness is too dangerous to risk…"

"How would you know that, sir?" spat Pine Needles, backing up his friend, "No one has actually inspected Thinial to confirm this ithe's stupid story! Survivors indeed… The only evidence he has is a well-rehearsed story, a handful of familiar names, and some likenesses on that…that strange gadget of his! Frankly, that is the dumbest reason to go traipsing into hostile territory with an untrustworthy ithe to lead the way! For all we know, he could lead us straight into a trap or else turn on us when it's in his best interests…"

"That's enough, soldier!" barked Ash, losing patience, "As the commanding officer in charge here, it is my decision that we should accept our new acquaintance's help to find the rest of our friends. Thinial is not an option…" Despite his authority however, Nose-in-the-Air and his friends were far from swayed.

"If you want to go and fall victim to another of this ithe's vile tricks like the Threarah did _sir_, you go right ahead! But I am taking this bunch to Thinial where it is safe. Come on lads, we should get there before nightfall." They turned to leave but Ash, now truly infuriated at being disobeyed in such a disrespectful manner, stepped in front of them, blocking their path, his bushy fur bristling with rage.

"Soldier, maybe you didn't understand me? I said nobody is going to Thinial! I absolutely forbid you to endanger your life and that of your friends. Now hold your tongue and get back in line!" But Nose-in-the-Air only sneered.

"What are you going to do about it Ash? Report me? Have me demoted? In case you haven't noticed _sir_, your rank died when Sandleford was destroyed! You are no longer in any position to give orders to anyone. Now it's every rabbit for himself!" He turned to Butterbur and Pine Needles, "We've wasted enough time talking about this. Let's go!" Without another word, the trio turned and walked away without a backward glance, Nose-in-the-Air giving Jamie a rather rough shove on the shoulder as he passed him. Ash's eyes narrowed with fury.

"Why, those miserable, mutinous…" he snarled, about to strike and probably give the three disobedient scouts a sound beating but was held back by Celandine and, surprisingly, Jamie. The doe nuzzled her mate trying to soothe his fiery temper before he could explode, "Don't Ash, it's not worth it. They are leaving by their own choice. It would be wrong to force them to stay."

"And just let them walk straight into a death trap?" Ash snapped incredulously, "If this ithe is telling the truth, then they won't be coming back. I can't just let them go!" However, Nose-in-the-Air and his two companions were already past the boundaries, into the woods and out of sight, undoubtedly eager to get as far away as possible from the strange human their companions had chosen to place their trust in. Finally giving in to the lost battle, Ash turned to Jamie and spoke in a calm, yet stern voice.

"I guess our destination is up to you Sunflower…Jamie," he said, using Jamie's real name for the first time, "We trust you to reunite us safely with our companions that left us for dead. However, I give you fair warning, if you try and double-cross us or bring any harm upon anyone under my protection, you will live to regret it! That's a promise."

"Then I guess I have nothing to fear," Jamie replied sheepishly, slightly alarmed at Ash's harsh warning. He was relieved when Nightshade stepped in.

"So, how do we find the others? They've already got a few days start on us; the wind and rain will have probably washed away most of the tracks and scent by now. And we have no idea where exactly they are headed…"

"Well, I guess we should start walking and hope they haven't gotten too far…" Ash suggested, also uncertain of how to track down the rest of the Sandleford refugees, but Jamie had a better idea.

"I have a better idea," he said, remembering the Cessna he had seen heading south, "What we need to catch up with the others is a faster _means of transportation_. And I know just where we can find it…"

After outlining his plan to his companions, they started salvaging any useful components and tools they could find from the debris field, according to Jamie's specifications. Once they had salvaged everything necessary for an improvised aircraft salvage operation, as well as anything they might need for a long journey, Jamie led the way back to the site where his glider had crash-landed the other day.

**Author's note:** Jamie's true journey now begins in earnest! For those of you that have read my first story, you already know that he doesn't find Alan's group, although he will pass certain places also found in the previous story. Also, Jamie's nickname Sunflower is borrowed from another fanfic called _Prince Rainbow's Blessing_ by kamikaziwinkie. His journey will feature new characters, as well as a few old ones, all set in a new plotline, yet preserving the continuity of the first story. Enjoy and please review! Until next time then!


	11. Chapter 11 Where is Home?

Jamie led his newly assembled group, which consisted of Lieutenant Ash, Sergeant Willow, Celandine, Nightshade, Hannah, Snitter and himself, back to the spot where he had abandoned his crashed glider the other day. Hannah rode confidently on the boy's shoulder, with Snitter excitedly circling his legs as they walked along. The rabbits followed at a safe distance, still uncertain of the trustworthiness of their new travel companion, almost as if still suspecting a trap.

Before departing Sandleford, Jamie had taken a few minutes to salvage anything useful from the chopper crash site, in hopes of getting his glider airborne again: the block-and-tackle, some cable, duct tape, and several spare harnesses. In addition, he had found a number of other potentially useful artefacts, which had been overlooked by Johnson's part, including an overlooked survival tin containing some flints, a folder water pouch, saw-wire, pins, hatchet, lighter, matchbook, candle, dental floss, sawing needles, and a solar survival blanket. Also, there was a zip-case containing a blank notebook, marker, pencil, and a flight chart which had belonged to pilot Smith. Finally, he had salvaged his father's flight helmet and gloves, which he had found discarded nearby, where McEwen had left them.

It wasn't long before they returned to the place, where the battered glider still lay at the foot of the tree, in the bed of mushrooms, where it had crash-landed. The plywood fuselage looked badly battered, with scratches and grazes all over the paint, in addition to the dried-up mushroom mash and mud splattered all over it. But otherwise, the glider looked capable of flight…or so Jamie hoped, as he set down the arsenal he had been carrying and turned to his companions, who were staring in confusion at the glider.

"Here we are chaps; all we have to do now is move the glider to the edge of the clearing back there for take-off. If it's not damaged, we should be in the air shortly…"

"In the air?" retorted Willow incredulously, looking completely unimpressed at the sight of the glider. On the way here, Jamie had explained to them his plan of using his glider to catch up with his father's group faster by _flying_ into the Dark Territory, rather than travelling on foot. "But that bird-like thing of yours is not _alive_; it's just a…a curiously shaped tree trunk! It can't fly… What in Frith's name?" he gasped, as a smirking Jamie reached inside the cockpit and flipped on the master switch to test the batteries, causing the pop to start spinning, indicating that there was still some power left.

The rabbits' expressions of confusion instantly turned to utter amazement, if not fear, as they watched the seemingly lifeless hrududu suddenly come back to life. Jamie glanced at his gauges and saw the batteries were just over half full; just enough for one more take-off and some power manoeuvring. Fortunately, the motor and control stick were undamaged. Satisfied, he powered it down to conserve power until they were ready for take-off, and turned to his companions.

"Now then, there is not enough room for everybody inside," he said, pointing at the tiny cockpit, only meant for two people, "Snitter, Hannah and I will ride at the controls; the rest of you will lie flat, spread out onto the wings, two on each side…"

"Excuse me," Ash interrupted sharply, "Are you suggesting we cling onto the wings when this…hrududu of yours takes flight? That's suicide! When those wings start flapping, we'll all be swept off…!"

"No you won't," Jamie replied reassuringly, holding up the safety harnesses he had salvaged from the chopper wreckage, "You'll all be firmly strapped down with these all the way. Besides, aircraft wings don't flap; we use the _motor_ to produce thrust…" However, the rabbits still looked the least keen to go ahead with the plan.

"Absolutely not!" Ash retorted, "I refuse to endanger my friends' lives by letting them cling onto this thing. We are rabbits, not ithel; we don't have _hands_ to hold on like you do…"

"Then what do you suggest, _Lieutenant_?" snapped Hannah incredulously, stressing Ash's title, as if it was something to scorn at, "It's going to be dark soon. Surely, you don't want to spend the night above ground, which will be crawling with elil come nightfall?" She had just said the magic words, because Ash and the others instantly showed expressions of renewed worrying; being out in the open after dark, with no shelter, would make them sitting ducks for the elil that came out to hunt at night.

Resigning himself to the best option, Ash reluctantly nodded in agreement. On Jamie's direction, the rabbits were all fitted with the harnesses; these in turn were attached to the block-and-tackle, which was fastened to the tow-cable clip on the nose of the glider. With Jamie positioned behind the wing, to push and steer, they moved the glider through the trees, towards a nearby meadow for take-off. After an hour of manoeuvring the glider around trees and other obstacles, they finally reached the plain of clear ground, which they would have to use as a runway.

Giving the glider a brief inspection for any structural damage, wiping off the dried-up mud and mushroom mash, and patching up the worst scratches grazes with duct tape, Jamie deemed it airworthy. Then came the issue of cramming four giant rabbits, a teenage boy, a fox terrier and a mouse on an aircraft only meant for two.

Remembering from his father's teachings, he knew his glider, which, in contrast to most normal gliders, was designed to have a small diesel engine mounted on it on request (Shelton had only settled for the standard battery motor to cut edges on expenses), which gave them some addition weight margin to play with. In addition, there were the full ballast tanks in the wings, used to balance the glider in flight. These held several gallons of water, which he could substitute for the weight of his companions.

Unscrewing the caps off the drain valves, he emptied the tanks, getting rid of all that unnecessary ballast. Then, securing the ends of the harnesses to the steel rings screwed onto the underside of the wings, normally meant for mooring lines, he brought the other ends over the front and onto the top, where his rabbit companions would be strapped down for the upcoming ride.

One by one, Jamie helped the rabbits onto the glider and strapped them down firmly. Placing Snitter in the back seat just like before, Jamie climbed into the forward pilot's seat and strapped himself in, Hannah tucked under his jacket collar. Stowing away his belongings and putting on his father's flight helmet from the chopper, he turned to his controls, preparing for take-off.

Flipping on the master switch, he saw all his flight instruments spring back to life, all but the busted-up radio. Although he had reattached the broken aerial in its socket, he found the crash had caused a short-circuit which had blown the fuse, rendering the radio beyond repair. As for his distress transmitter, which he had left running on, in hopes that someone would trace him, apparently had caught no one's attention. But it hardly mattered anymore, as he would be home in half an hour…or at least he _hoped_ he would.

Grabbing hold of the control stick, he turned it horizontally and sideways, to test his rudder, elevator and ailerons; glancing out his windshield, he saw all the fins rise and dip properly with every movement. His pre-flight check complete, he pushed his throttle forward, powering up the motor for take-off. As the thrust built up, the glider began to slide forward across the grass, picking up speed as it went.

Ignoring the gasps of the rabbits on the wings, Jamie focused on his work, as he manoeuvred his glider across the meadow, watching out for potholes and other obstacles. He could feel the undercarriage, stressed by running through the tall grass, vibrating violently beneath him, the motor straining to generate enough thrust to get the overloaded aircraft off the ground. Pulling back on the stick, he felt the wheels leave the ground, but only for an instant, before the fuselage touched back down again, protesting against the excess weight.

Punching the throttle to full power and shutting down all unnecessary instruments to increase the motor output, Jamie pulled back on the stick again; this time, the glider left the ground and kept climbing at a steady speed. 100ft…200ft…300ft…

The rabbits all but screamed in amazement as they suddenly found themselves soaring into the sky, strapped onto the wings of this wooden bird-like hrududu their human companion was controlling. Like Jamie had assured them, the wings didn't flap and shake them off. Soon, they were gliding through the sky at a steady altitude, the ground, several hundred feet below, slowly drifting past beneath them.

As they soared over the treetops, the ruins of Sandleford came into view, with the chopper wreckage still visible in the centre. The glider cruised over the demolished warren before turning around and heading southeast, towards the Enborne River. Ash cast a last grim look at his old home, now in ruins, as they left the nightmare of the death trap that had nearly claimed their lives, like it had done with so many of their fellow rabbits, behind them. Inside the cockpit, Hannah, now that she wasn't flying as the next meal for a hawk, was having the time of her life.

"Oh, ho, ho, flying is fun, Jamie!" she cheered, admiring the view outside, from atop her friend's shoulder. Jamie smiled as he turned to look at the rest of his passengers; on his left, he could see Willow and Nightshade clinging nervously to the wing surface with their claws, their faces expressing their fear of flying, the latter keeping his eyes tight shut, looking as if he was about to be sick.

"Are you guys doing all right out there?" Jamie called to Nightshade, who was too scared or too airsick to answer. Instead, Sergeant Willow, who retained enough courage to speak, retorted incredulously, "DOES IT LOOK LIKE WE'RE DOING ALL RIGHT, YOU BLOODY ITHE?"

Trying to hide his snort of amusement, Jamie turned to check on the rabbits on the starboard side. In direct contrast to Willow and Nightshade, Ash and Celandine, although initially struck dumb with amazement, were now having the time of their lives. Ash was silently admiring the landscape below, a view, he knew, nobody else had ever experienced before, unless when snatched away by flying elil. Beside him, Celandine was smiling broadly, utterly thrilled by this unique, first-time experience. Any doubts they had had regarding their new friend, or where he had come from, were now entirely extinguished.

Jamie too was lost in his own thoughts, as he steered the glider on a southeasterly heading, heading back towards Newtown, thinking about his mother's reaction when he would turn up on the doorstep accompanied by four giant talking rabbits and a mouse. Then his mind flashed back to his father; in spite of his grand adventure, he still hadn't found what he had come looking for. Unless of course, if he had already made it home and was waiting for him…

Although it was clear by now that his father had survived the crash of his chopper, the graves of his crew confirming it, Jamie still wasn't sure if he had made it home on foot. The tracks leading away from the crash site into the woods made it seem that way, but why had it taken him several days to do so? And then there was this inexplicable mystery of the changed world; could something have happened to his home as well? Although it sounded impossible for a whole town to simply vanish into thin air, he didn't like this strange silence on his cell phone, much less the curious absence of other people…

Flying over the Enborne, he set course for a golf course he knew on the far side of town, close to Newtown Churchyard. But as he stared outside, looking for any familiar landmarks, he was puzzled to see nothing. Where there should have been the outskirts of town, there was just more wilderness, deprived of any traces of houses or roads. The boy felt his insides turn to ice in fear and confusion; at worst, he had expected to find the town demolished, which would explain the silence and absence of other people. But to find it had completely _ceased to exist_, as if it had never been there at all, was unbelievable…and fearfully shocking.

_Where is it? Where the bloody hell is it? _He thought desperately over and over again, scanning every inch of the horizon for anything familiar, but all in vain. Even his newly acquired flight chart was worthless, as it indicated locations that had seemingly ceased to exist. Nothing…but, no, there was something! Where the outskirts of town were supposed to be, Jamie noticed the outline of some sort of small building, which looked vaguely familiar…

As he surveyed the landscape, looking for a good landing sight, he was suddenly caught off-guard by the terrified screams of his companions. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a hawk, probably the same one that had attacked his glider earlier, soar out of the sky, heading straight towards them for an attack. With nothing to fight back with, Jamie pumped the throttle up to full and took evasive action, flying round in circles, struggling to shake off the pursuing bird of prey, Hannah clinging to his neck in fright.

Although the glider could fly reasonably fast, it was no match for the swift-moving hawk. Jamie made every violent manoeuvre he knew - or more precisely could _improvise_ on an instinct impulse - to evade the hawk's talons as the flying monster went for the rabbits strapped onto the wings, sitting ducks for the enemy, trapped and with nowhere to run. And meanwhile, the motor batteries, only meant for trim control, not travel, were quickly dwindling.

Over the screams of the rabbits and Hannah, Jamie watched as the power readings continued to drop; a small red light on the control panel told him Battery A was dead and B was about to go any second now. Doing another belly-roll, the prop, which had been rapidly losing rpm, finally ground to a halt; inside the cockpit, the instruments flickered and went out, as the battery died. Jamie tried flipping the master switch, hoping that some power might be left but it was no use; the batteries were dead as a pair of old doornails.

In an instant, he found himself in a desperate situation; although he had piloted the glider without power during the few training sessions with his father, he had never practised landing it manually, not even in theory, and certainly not without professional guidance. To make matters worse, the glider, now lacking the advantage of a motor to top up the thrust, was quickly starting to yield the effects of flying overloaded. Although Jamie could still control the trim, his glider was losing altitude fast, giving them maybe another two minutes of glide time.

Abandoning all further attempts of outrunning the hawk, Jamie lined up with the nearest plain for his first emergency landing. His heart in his mouth, the boy focused on his flying with more attention than he had ever done before in his life, while wringing his brains for every last scrap of information he had picked up from his limited flying training, intent on getting this thing down safely. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw, with a gulp of horror, the hawk circling to make another run at them. Most likely, the moment they landed, that flying monster would be upon them again and rip the immobilised glider to matchsticks and them with it.

Suddenly, as the hawk was about to renew the attack, a familiar, yet unexpected, sound pierced the sky, followed by the hawk's shriek of pain as a bullet struck it. The wounded bird of prey abandoned its pursue and flew away, injured or dying. Although Jamie had no idea who had fired that life-saving gunshot, now wasn't the time to find out, not while he still had a dead glider to land with the most rudimentary of training, and having done only one complete solo flight that had almost ended in disaster on his first landing.

Keeping his elevator trim steady, monitoring his rate of descent visually (his altimeter, speedometer and artificial horizon were dead), he extended his speed brakes, reducing the airspeed for touchdown. It seemed like an eternity before the wheels of the glider suddenly slammed down on the grass with such force, Jamie feared he had misjudged his airspeed and the aircraft would disintegrate. But it didn't; instead, it ploughed its way through the grass, vibrating and shaking, but gradually slowing down, before finally coming to rest in front of that structure Jamie had spotted from above.

Shaking and clammy, Jamie let go of the stick, relieved to be back on level ground again. In spite of all the difficulties he had encountered, this time it had been a sloppy, yet successful landing. Turning to check on his passengers, he saw them still spread out on the wings, shaken but otherwise unharmed. His father would no doubt be proud if he could see him now. Chuckling mildly, he muttered to himself, "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying…McEwen Airlines!"

His joy of his safe return however, quickly evaporated as he stared outside his windshield at his surroundings. Where there should have been the familiar neighbourhood of his hometown, which he had known all his life, there was nothing but more untamed wilderness in every direction. The only trace of human civilisation visible was that building, which he now recognised as Newtown Churchyard, where he had met Kenny only last week. Only, it had…_changed_.

Although still recognisable, the church now looked ancient and in ruins, the graveyard overgrown and seemingly unvisited for years, maybe centuries. The road and the outskirts of town, which were always clearly visible from here, had all vanished without a trace. The voices of his companions diverted his attention.

"Hey, Sunflower, would you mind getting us down from here?" called Ash, as he and his companions, finding themselves back on the ground, were eager to get out of their harnesses. Determined to get some answers to this mystery, Jamie climbed out of his glider with Snitter and Hannah, and hurryingly untied the four rabbits. Willow got to his feet, dazed and shaking.

"I am never riding on a flying hrududu again as long as I live," he moaned, as Nightshade, right beside him, threw up, undoubtedly sharing the Sergeant's sentiments about flying. Ash helped a shaken Celandine down from the wing, both rabbits sighing in relief at their lucky escape. For a moment, Jamie half-expected them to round on him, accusing him of endangering their lives. Instead, Celandine turned to look at him for a moment before walking up to him and nuzzling him in gratitude.

"Thank you Sunflower, thank you so much," she said, nuzzling the surprised Jamie on the shoulder, "I don't know how you did it, but we would all be dead now if it weren't for you…" Behind her, Ash too, was beaming in silent praise. Although touched, Jamie shook his head as he remembered the gunshot.

"I…I didn't do anything chaps," he said, "If, whoever it was, hadn't fired that shot, we would have been knocked out of sky in another minute. Only who…?" Turning to look at his surroundings again, Jamie suddenly knew fear. What had happened to his home? His mother? Kenny? His rabbit friends, which had obviously been expecting something more spectacular, seemed just as puzzled as him, as they stared at the ruins of the old church.

"_This_ place is your home?" asked Ash in confusion, "But these ruins have been abandoned for hrair seasons. I remember exploring a similar site back at Sandleford with Captain Holly…" At these words, the truth finally hit Jamie with the force of a sledgehammer. The explanation to all this mystery was crazy, but obvious; the Aurora which caused anything that passed through it to disappear, the inexplicably changed world, his dead cell phone and radio, these unheard-of talking giant rabbits, which had never met humans like him before, and the disappearance of all civilisation… It all led to only one conclusion.

_Time Travel…_

What Jamie had assumed had been the countryside outside of town had been correct; except, it wasn't in the _present_. He had taken off from the flight club on the 31st December 2012 and crash landed on the outskirts of Newbury…what he now realised had been centuries, perhaps millennia, later! Just like it had happened with his father, the Aurora had thrown him into this mysterious world, which was the _future_. He was a marooned _time traveller_, stuck in some unknown future era, standing in the place that had once been his home.

_Oh my God…_ he thought grimly, feeling like he was about to be sick, _If this is the future, then Mum, Ken, everyone I know is long dead…_ He sunk to his knees, trembling violently in shock. His friends, noticing his distress, crowded around him. Hannah tenderly leaned over his shoulder, muttering, "What is it Jamie? What is the matter?" The boy took a minute to find his voice again before answering in a forced tone, holding back tears of sorrow.

"It's…this place _was_ my home, Hannah," he explained, struggling to come to terms with the reality of his situation, "I have been home all along; only my mother and friends have been dead for hundreds of years!" Seeing his companions' blank expressions, he launched into his story of flying through the Aurora, which had transported him into the future.

"This is the reason why we speak the same language, even though our species have never met," he reasoned, as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place, "Long ago, humans lived here like you. The language you speak is the last surviving remnant of humanity, which has been somehow passed on to you…" the boy said, staring at the crumbling churchyard, the only surviving fragment of his hometown, overrun by centuries of unchecked growth and barely recognisable anymore.

In spite of his grief of the prospect of never seeing his mother, friends or home again, Jamie was suddenly struck with a new mystery: Why had humanity apparently become extinct? Where there should have been a super-advanced technological world, according to scientific predictions of the future, instead there was an endless wilderness of giant, talking rabbits, making Jamie feel like a stranded astronaut on a Planet-of-the-Rabbits-like world. How could the Earth have become like this?

Suddenly, they were caught off-guard by Snitter's furious barking. Turning round, Jamie saw a man who had emerged from the forest and was swiftly making his way towards them. The stranger was a shallow-skinned fellow with cold eyes and dressed in expensive-looking black leather garments, like an undertaker. His pricey clothes sported several ghastly tears, with semi-healed wounds visible underneath, looking as if he had recently been attacked and mauled by some ferocious animal. Clutched firmly in his hand was an expensive-looking revolver, not unlike that used by government agents, making Jamie realise he was the one who had shot the hawk that had attacked them in flight.

Despite being armed and menacing-looking, not to mention bearing signs of a recent conflict, Jamie felt entirely relieved at the sight of the stranger, who was the first human being he had seen in two days. The newcomer likewise looked overjoyed to see Jamie, apparently also starved for fellow human companionship. Sure enough, the man walked up to them, raising his hand in greeting.

"Hallo there. Russell Robbins, at your service. May I be inclined to know your names?" The stranger's voice was stern and military-like, almost as cold as his black eyes, yet non-threatening.

"Jamie McEwen, nice to meet you Mr Robbins," Jamie said, shaking hands with the man Robbins. "What are you doing here?"

"Stranded, like you apparently, young man," Robbins replied in an almost calculated voice, turning to stare at the glider sitting amidst the tombstones beside the group with an almost hungry look, "I presume you're the owner of that little beauty?" he asked, cutting off Jamie who was about to introduce his friends.

"Well, yes sir," stuttered Jamie, unsure if he liked this Mr Robbins or not. Although seemingly friendly, something seemed badly off about this man. Even his name somehow sounded vaguely familiar… At that moment, Ash, who had been studying Robbins intently, as if trying to make a connection, spoke up.

"I know you," the former Owsla Lieutenant said, catching Robbins off-guard, "You are one of those ithel that first came to our warren before it was destroyed…" Jamie's heart nearly jumped in his lungs with excitement as he realised that he had found one of his father's travel companions from the crash site. His belief that he had reached the end of the road was instantly replaced with renewed hope of finding his father after all, and ultimately, maybe even finding a way home. In his excitement however, he failed to notice Robbins nervously bite his lip at Ash's words, almost as if he didn't want to be recognised for some reason…

**Author's note:** Terribly sorry for the long delay but I was working on my dissertation and job hunting. Also, I am afraid further updates will probably also be delayed since I am starting work. However, I promise I will finish the story eventually. On a side note, for those of you who have read my first story will know that Robbins returned to Cowslip's warren around this time after joining Efrafa, so it's logical that he would meet Jamie here. Enjoy and please review! AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!


	12. Chapter 12 A Survivor and a Spy

**January 5****th**** 2013, 1:30AM**

Josie lay in bed, crying softly, trying in vain to drift off to sleep and forget about her sorrows. Although there was a power failure in town from the blizzard, which wouldn't be fixed until tomorrow morning, she couldn't find the willpower to light a lamp, to penetrate the darkness that now filled her empty house. It had been five days now since her son had disappeared, just like her husband. What had been a time of misery and depression following James' disappearance last week, had only turned to utter desperation when she had woken up on New Year's Day to find Jamie gone as well.

She had woken up that morning and gone downstairs to make breakfast as usual, but Jamie hadn't answered her call to come down to eat. She had found his bed empty with no explanation as to where he had gone. When she had found Snitter's kennel empty as well, she had figured he had probably gone out early to take the dog on his morning walk. But when he had failed to turn up by lunchtime, she had started getting worried. Where had her son gone?

She had tried calling him on his cell phone, but had only gotten a warning that his phone was unavailable. Then she had discovered that the briefcase containing her husband's insurance money was also missing, as well as a shocking note Jamie had left on the mantelpiece, explaining where he had gone. On the verge of a heart attack, Josie had immediately phoned the police; only Sheriff Fowler had explained that they had already received another urgent phone call from Tom Shelton, reporting a break-in at his flight club last night and his glider stolen.

Hurrying down to the station, Josie had met with Fowler and Shelton, whom the Sheriff had summoned down for questioning. According to Shelton's statement, Jamie had broken into the flight club hanger in the middle of the night and taken off with the glider, apparently on some insane solo rescue mission to find his father. And just like it had happened with James, the glider had vanished without a trace while crossing over the New Forest area.

Josie had shown Fowler Jamie's note and had informed him of the missing money, which Jamie had apparently taken with him. Surprisingly enough, Tom Shelton, who was entitled to press charges for the theft, had been unusually sympathetic and had reassured her that he would not sue, regardless if the glider was returned to him undamaged or not. But when Josie had asked him to let her speak with Kenny, who had been the last person to see Jamie the night he disappeared, the flight controller had firmly refused, claiming that his son had suffered a great shock when he had heard the news about his friend, and was not to be disturbed.

Although sceptical of Shelton's story, given that Jamie wasn't a troublemaker prone to breaking-in and stealing, Josie had been too distraught to give it another thought. What mattered was that her son had done the unthinkable and as a result, had followed his father to his doom. In spite of the authorities renewing the search in earnest, no trace of Jamie had been found and the boy was soon also given up for lost just like his father.

Despite the Sheriff's reassurance that they would continue to keep Jamie's picture on the missing persons' list for as long as it would take, deep down Josie knew it was only false hope. Because of her stupidity by going to sleep under sedatives that night, her son – her entire family – was gone, leaving her with nothing but an empty house and her work. In other words, she had nothing left to live for anymore; the last remaining remnant of her family was her father-in-law, whom she hardly knew. Although Mike McEwen had promised to continue supporting her in every way, what good was the support of an old man, who served as little more than a reminder of her deceased husband and son?

Her first thought had been to leave town and move away, maybe leave the country altogether; perhaps she could immigrate to France or the United States, remarry and start a new family… Unfortunately, with her husband's insurance money lost when she needed it the most, it was impossible. Besides, the thought of moving away to a strange country, all alone, with no idea of how to start anew, felt too much for her.

And so it had been for several days now that she had sat waiting, not coming out or seeing anyone, praying for a miracle that might bring her family back safely. The lack of sleep and meals was already beginning to take its toll on her; dark shadows hung under her eyes, her expression a void of total emptiness. Finally, tonight she had come to a decision.

On the bedside table sat a bottle of wine and some painkillers prescribed by her physician to help her cope with her trauma. The pills had been removed from their box and were lying on a saucer; she was preparing a simple barbiturate any person with medical knowledge knew how to make, which, in a large dose, would lead to a deep coma and eventually a painless death by heart failure.

Taking the saucer of tablets, she ground them to powder with a teaspoon. Then she added the powder to the bottle, preparing a large quantity of the lethal narcotic. Making herself comfortable in bed, she poured herself a large glass of the mixture. Picking up the glass of homemade poison, she stared at it, hesitating at what she was about to do.

Her mind reflected on her childhood, when once before in her life, she had suddenly, and without warning, found herself alone in the world when her parents had been killed in that car crash when she was ten. Only then, she had met Alan and his gang, who had helped her cope with her loss and start over. But that was a long time ago; Alan and her old friends were now just as dead as her husband and son, leaving her with only one way out of this misery fate had cast her into.

Her hand trembling with anticipation, she brought the glass up to her lips, muttering a silent prayer under her breath. Her mind was racing; half of it was screaming at her to get a grip on herself and stop this madness before she regretted it, while the other half was urging her to get on with it and end her misery once and for all. Hopefully, it would be no different than going to sleep… for eternity. And her husband and son - and Alan of course - would be waiting on the other side. Yes, this was the best way.

Almost as if in a trance, she sat up and took a sip; her throat muscles instantly contracted, refusing to swallow, as she struggled with the mental battle in her mind. Should she do it? Although it could take several glasses of the mixture before it acted, she didn't think she'd be able to stop once she started. And once it was done, there would be no turning back… Banishing the thought of the possibility of her son or husband returning after she was gone and finding out what she did, she braced herself, preparing to swallow…

Suddenly, she was caught off-guard by a loud pounding on the front door downstairs. Snapping out of her suicidal trance, she spat out the deadly mixture, which splattered against the mirror atop her dresser on the far side of the room. Horrified by what she had been about to do, as if only now realising she had actually been attempting suicide, she jumped out of bed, hurrying to get a kerosene lamp that sat on her husband's bedside table.

Hurryingly lighting the lantern, she rushed downstairs to answer the door. Who could it be at this hour? She had had several unexpected midnight visitors in the past, often pet owners with sick animals, but this didn't sound like one; even from the top of the stairs, she could hear a desperate male voice, which sounded vaguely familiar, shouting, "Hallo! Anybody home? We need help, hallo!"

Her mind racing, she fiddled with the keys by lamplight, trying to unlock the door. Could it be Sheriff Fowler, having arrived with some good news? Maybe they had found something after all? But then again, why did the voice sound so desperate? Cautiously opening the door ajar, but keeping the chain latch engaged, she saw several figures on the porch. The outline of a tall man standing nearest to the door was visible against the darkness of the street, with five other curiously short people – or so they seemed - behind him. To add to Josie's confusion, those 'short people' seemed to be wearing the most peculiar human-sized rabbit-ear caps she had ever seen, that no person in his right mind would ever wear out in public, and even seemed to crouch like rabbits… What was all this about? Some idiot's idea of a midnight fancy dress surprise perhaps?

"Hallo? Who are you sir and what do you want, calling at this hour…? Oh, my goodness!" Josie gasped, shining her lantern through the crack to get a better look at her visitors, only to encounter the most incredible and just as chilling sight imaginable: standing on her porch was a man with such a ghastly appearance, he looked as if he had just escaped from a war zone.

Wearing nothing but a pair of shredded, mud-caked, and bloodstained trousers and t-shirt beneath his anorak, the stranger's face and arms were lined with multiple scratches and bruises, including one particularly nasty one on his left forearm, staining his anorak sleeve red. But the man's haggard appearance was nothing compared to that of his companions; and it wasn't related to injuries.

Josie's jaw nearly dropped level with the floor in amazement as she stared dumbstruck at the four giant rabbits standing at her door. Nearly human-sized, with expressions that expressed not the instinct-like nature of normal animals, but human-level intelligence, like their companion's, these strange creatures were all staring at Josie in a pleading way, as if asking for her help. The scarring and bruising covering their bodies marked the aftermath of some rough struggle. Sure enough, the man – apparently their leader – spoke again.

"Sorry to disturb you ma'am, but I need your help at once! My friend is dying!" It was then that Josie noticed by her lamplight, a fifth giant rabbit wrapped in a jacket in the man's arms. This one, in contrast to his companions, was unconscious and looked very ill from some unseen injury. Undoubtedly, they had read her infirmary sign down by the garden gate and had come for help. Although utterly at a loss as to what was going on here, at the sight of that sick rabbit, not to mention the obvious signs of hardships amongst the rest of the group, she could not just turn them away now.

"All right, come in," she said, ushering them all inside, out of the blizzard raging outside. She led them down the hallway to her infirmary. Hurrying into the garage next door to fire up a small emergency generator her husband had installed for just such an occasion, she stepped back into the infirmary and lit up several lights mounted on stands, illuminating the room.

The artificial light shone upon her visitors' dirty faces, confirming that her eyes had not been playing tricks on her back there. As a veterinarian, Josie could easily tell an animal from a fancy-dress costume; these strange creatures were as real flesh and blood as they were impossible to imagine. The man was bending over the unconscious rabbit he had placed on the examination table, as another fierce-looking rabbit with a peculiar tuft of fur between his ears spoke to him.

"Are you sure that was wise Alan, coming here?" he whispered in a _human voice_ and good English, as he stared suspiciously at Josie, "She may be McEwen's mate, but how do we know she is trustworthy? What if she decides to sell us out…?" Josie had barely enough time to accept the fact that she wasn't dreaming, before she was struck by a new wave of amazement, as she recognised her visitor.

At the mention of the name Alan and her husband's name, her eyes darted back to the man and she gasped. It _was_ him all right; standing before her was non other than her old boyfriend Alan Alexander Johnson himself! Although it had been nearly fourteen years since they had lost touch, the familiar handsome face behind the horn-rimmed glasses was unmistakable, the toothbrush-like moustache and trimmed hair he had substituted for his old ponytail not having changed him much.

Her mind flashed back to that shocking news report she had read in the paper the other day, that Alan's disappearance had been a suicidal plane crash; although she had been grieving for her husband and son at the time, she had felt outraged to hear such cruel words about him. Although she had known Alan to be a daredevil at times, who would scare her senseless with his antics, she had also known him to be honest and caring, never murderous or suicidal. The very fact that he had shown up on her doorstep, accompanied by a bunch of giant humanoid rabbits, completely dispelled that yellow Press story. And, by the sound of it, he was the key informant who could put her on the right trail to find her husband and son.

Alan, on the other hand, currently out of his mind with worry for his long-earned friend on the table, hadn't recognised her…yet. Seeing her hesitation, he shook her shoulder to regain her attention, "I'll explain what's going on later. Right now, I need you to concentrate on your patient!"

Getting to work in earnest, Josie struggled frantically to reverse the poisoning the runt buck had suffered after being hit with a strychnine dart, according to Alan's explanation. Although she still had no idea what was going on, or where these strange rabbits had come from, she now knew for a certainty, her search for her husband had only just began…

**March 15****th**** 2791, Cowslip's Warren**

Centuries away from his mother, Jamie and his band were following Mr Robbins away from the ruins of Newtown Churchyard and into the woods, towards another warren where Robbins had found shelter after getting separated from his companions. As they walked, Jamie finally got to hear the full story of his father's fate.

Mr Robbins was a video documentarian, who had hitched a last-minute ride on Johnson's Cessna on that fateful day, eager for some footage of the New Forest dead zone, not realising he had been embarking on the flight of his life. Just like it had happened with Jamie, the plane had encountered the Aurora and, in an instant, they had found themselves stranded in this crazy future world.

With their pilot dead from a mid-flight heart attack, Johnson had managed to make an emergency landing on the outskirts of Sandleford. Like Ash had explained earlier, the Owsla had caught them trespassing and brought them before the Chief Rabbit for questioning. It had been then that MacEwen's chopper, which had also run foul of the Aurora, had shown up, only to meet a disastrous crash landing, destroying Sandleford in the process.

Some of the Sandleford survivors, along with Johnson's party and Jamie's father – the only survivor from the chopper crew - had regrouped and set off into the wilderness, in search of a new home. With Johnson in the lead, they had crossed the Enborne River, heading south towards the downs, where they hoped to find shelter. Unfortunately, they hadn't gotten far.

On the way, they had camped out at the ruins of Newtown Churchyard for the night. That very night, Johnson, accompanied by his friend Derek Shaw, had taken off without explanation. Little had the others realised at that point, that there were in for trouble. Sure enough, the very next day the group had been ambushed and attacked by another group of hostile rabbits that Johnson had brought back with him from the forest.

"We were all caught unawares, captured and dragged off," Robbins explained, "Those bandits, which said come from some hidden warren called Efrafa and regard themselves as self-appointed masters of this land, had been set upon us…by _Johnson_!" Jamie gasped. Perhaps those stories questioning Johnson's sanity, which had upset his mother so much, had been true after all?

"I barely escaped with my life," Robbins explained, gesturing at all the mauling that covered his body, "I made it to this other warren and have been hiding there ever since. I was out looking for food and saw your glider coming in. Close shave, was it not?" he said, pulling back his jacket, revealing a holster in his belt, with an expensive-looking service revolver tucked inside it.

"Yes, thanks for that save, Mr Robbins," replied Jamie, remembering the mysterious gunshot that had saved their lives, "But, hang on…! He added, suddenly fuelled with suspicion, "Since when do journalists carry _guns_? And on a _plane_ nonetheless?" Robbins froze in his tracks, realising the cat was out of the bag…again. But, for the second time in one day, he was able to salvage it, as he calmly explained by taking out his leather wallet and flashing a badge. Jamie recognised the crest of the British Secret Service Bureau.

"You are a _government agent_ Mr Robbins?" he asked in surprise, "And what are you doing here?"

"We had reason to believe that Dr Johnson was involved in selling out government secrets to international terrorists, so we have had him under surveillance for a while now," explained the man in a cold voice, "And after what happened the other day, I am pretty sure we are dealing with a raving psychopath who belongs in an institution for the criminally insane. Either that, or he's been bought…again. Frankly, given his _traumatic_ background, there's nothing to keep a man like him honest for long…"

"How many of our warren where with you when this happened?" asked Ash, eager to learn exactly which of his people had survived the destruction of Sandleford. Robbins gave him all the names he could remember, several of which Ash identified as friends and Owsla comrades, or just simple acquaintances or neighbours. His companions looked shocked and outraged at this realisation. Jamie however, couldn't help but feel that something just didn't add up to Robbins' story.

"You said Johnson sold you out to some hostiles?" he asked, "But why would he do that?" By the sound of it, Robbins and his companions had teamed up with the homeless Sandlefordians, like he had done with Ash and his friends, because it would benefit both parties and give them all a better chance of survival. Johnson betraying them like that didn't sound like something that was in his best interests, given his situation. Robbins however, didn't seem to have the faintest doubt whatsoever.

"That fellow is mad as a Hatter, kid," snapped Robbins impatiently, getting tired of Jamie's questions, "For crying out loud, he even confessed to have murdered his family last year, when his wife discovered his secret allegiance! It was only because of his slimy accomplice Shaw, who admitted to have forsworn on his behalf at the trial that he got away with it then…" Jamie frowned; he had heard the details of that trial on the news. But there was something else he had to know.

"What about my father?" asked the boy, dreading the answer. If this Johnson fellow was a traitor and a killer, perhaps his father had ended up another of his victims, like his wife and daughter? Robbins paused for a moment, as if deep in thought, before explaining in a more sympathetic tone.

"Your father was among those captured _alive_," he finally admitted, "I suspect he's still being held prisoner by those Efrafans, along with the others. That's all I know." Although obviously not the best of news, Jamie was utterly relieved to learn that his father was still alive and that his search was still on.

Robbins led them towards the entrance to the warren. Hearing them approaching, a large rabbit – apparently the Chief - with bushy white fur, emerged from the run to greet them. Jamie was half-expecting their host to gasp in surprise and fear at the sight of the two humans standing outside the entrance to his home; to his utmost surprise however, the rabbit simply flashed them a chilling grin, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Welcome, welcome friends," he chanted in a sickly sweet, sing-song voice, which gave Jamie the creeps, "Greetings all. It's so nice of you to call. Well, well, well, back so soon my good friend Robbins? Ah, I see you've brought some new friends along to embrace my hospitality. How charming," he added, staring at Jamie and his group, faces unfamiliar to him, with a slight frown, "Although I do hope they prove more…_grateful_ than their predecessors…"

"Ah, yes, thank you Cowslip," Robbins said hastily, cutting off the rabbit Cowslip's speech. Jamie was wondering what the rabbit had been referring to, about having had some ungrateful visitors in the past, before Cowslip ushered them below ground, into his warren.

They ventured down the run, into some sort of underground grotto, which seemed to be the warren's main chamber. Resembling a massive air pocket in the ground, the chamber was held up by the roots of massive trees that stood on the hillside above the warren. The walls were embedded with some strange coloured stones, which Jamie recognised as shattered fragments of brick, concrete, porcelain, glass and other man-made materials, which was all that was left of his long-gone hometown, now nothing more than a layer of shattered, fossilised fragments tucked beneath the earth, where the warren now penetrated.

Lying comfortably around the chamber were several plumb rabbits, staring mildly at the newcomers. They too, Jamie noted, had vague and blank expressions in their eyes, almost as if in a trance, hardly acknowledging Jamie and his friends, much less the fact that he and Robbins were humans. However, he failed to notice a pale ginger doe, with a worried expression on her face, try and get their attention as they walked by; a stern glare from Cowslip, who was following right behind, made her fall silent and she resumed his trance like everyone else.

Surprisingly enough, the warren seemed to have plenty of vacant burrows, which Cowslip eagerly offered up to his newly arrived guests. Even better, there was plenty of food to spare, something Ash and his friends had been craving for, as they hadn't eaten since before the destruction of their home warren.

Half an hour later, with Celandine, Willow and Nightshade having drifted off to sleep, exhausted from their ordeal, as well as their journey, Jamie went aside with Ash and Robbins, to discuss their next step. Now that Jamie knew his father could still be alive, he would have to find him and fast. It was his only hope of finding a way back home again. And with that madman Johnson on the loose out there, made it all the more imperative to act without delay. Mr Robbins seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as he outlined his plan to his new companions.

"Our best bet of getting back is the same way we came in; by flying. For that, we'll need to retrieve the Cessna that brought me here," he said, "Unfortunately, Johnson is already one step ahead of us; he has retrieved the plane and taken it back to the hostiles' warren for safekeeping."

"We saw the plane from the woods," Jamie said, remembering trying unsuccessfully to signal it that morning, "But if Johnson has it, then why hasn't he tried getting back already? Does this mean we can't get back at all?"

"No, at least I don't think so," Robbins admitted, "In my professional opinion, Johnson has found the perfect place of refuge in this world. If he goes back, he knows he will be hunted down and arrested for murder; over here, he is out of reach from the law for good. What about your glider? Can it still fly?" Jamie shook his head.

"Batteries are dead," the boy explained sadly, "That glider is grounded for good…" He didn't need an experienced aviator to tell him his glider wasn't going anywhere; without the electric motor or some other means of producing thrust, there was no way to take off again. Although it could _glide_ without power, if given the right winds, it couldn't possibly defy the force of gravity and take flight without power. Robbins however smiled as he pulled out a peculiar gadget from his pocket.

A pair of high-voltage points protruded from the sneaker-sized black object that Robbins held in his hand. Jamie had seen several versions of that nasty artefact on television, but never up close before: it was a Taser, or stun gun, undoubtedly another gadget from Robbins' Secret Service arsenal.

"This little baby saved my skin the other day," smiled the man nastily, hitting the safety switch to produce a spark between the points, "I believe its cell will make a fine alternate power source to get your glider airborne again." Jamie felt his hopes rise; although he didn't know much about electronics, he knew the Taser definitely had a high voltage source, probably sufficient enough to get the glider motor running again.

Borrowing Jamie's Swiss Army knife, Robbins got to work taking his Taser apart, to extract the battery. Soon, the cell-phone sized cell lay clutched in his hand. The easy part was done; now it was time for the _hard_ one.

Leaving the rest of their companions to their slumber, Robbins, Jamie, Hannah, Snitter and Ash, hurried out to return to the glider for the repairs. Laying out the contents of Jamie's survival kit on a tombstone, from which they would have to improvise the tools they would need, they got to work.

Using the screwdriver from Jamie's pocketknife, they opened up the cover of the power unit encased in the fuselage beneath the motor assembly. Inside they could see two 12-volt rechargeable batteries, wired up to a voltage multiplier, which automatically converted the low-voltage DC the batteries produced to a high-voltage AC at the frequency the motor required.

On Robbins' instructions, and with Hannah handing Jamie tools and components, they disconnected the dead batteries from the assembly; then, using a strip of snare wire from Jamie's kit, they cut it up into strands for a pair of short power cables, which could withstand the power surge. These in turn were soldered to the flat Taser battery terminals and the other ends screwed into the power sockets of the capacitor where the batteries were usually wired. The newly rigged assembly was securely strapped together with duct tape, preventing the likelihood of turbulence disrupting the circuit on take-off and causing a crash.

An hour and two scorched index fingers later, the glider was ready for testing. Would it work? Although the capacitor was designed to withstand a wide range of electrical frequencies and was fitted with safety fuses to interrupt power surges, there was no guarantee that it would work. Although the battery was of a similar voltage as the original, it was drastically smaller in size and seemingly unlikely to power up a device of that size, converter or not. Or, worse still, if it was a misfit, it could cause a short-circuit or a power surge that would blow the fuse, rending the motor beyond repair.

Switching off all unnecessary systems, to compensate for the load on the small battery, Jamie prepared for a test start. Taking a deep breath, on Robbins' command, he hit the starter switch. He half-expected to see a burst of sparks shoot out from under the switch, where the fuse was, but it didn't happen. Instead, the motor gave a whirring sound and begun spinning; not as good as with the original heavy cells, but enough for one more take-off. Quickly powering down, to conserve their precious few minutes, if not seconds, of power, Robbins announced the glider ready for flight.

"Let's go get the others," Jamie said excitedly. The time had come to resume the search for his father. "It's time to hit the road again…" But Robbins stopped him.

"Sorry kid, but I can't let you come with me. It's better if I go alone," he said, his voice firm, "You simply don't have the experience for such a dangerous escapade; I, on the other hand, have had years of intense, professional training…"

"But it's my _father_ out there!" Jamie protested, "I _must_ come along, at my own risk if I have to…!"

"The weight of another passenger would overtax the glider motor and the hostiles' warren is several miles south of here; the less weight, the farther it will get without power. Also, I need you and your friends stationed on this end, to cover my back…so to speak."

"How to you possibly expect us to cover your back by hiding here, while you are off on your own, fighting our fight?" Hannah snapped incredulously. Ignoring her, Robbins explained to Jamie.

"I need you to keep a signal fire burning for several hours every evening outside the warren, until I return. Since we have no communication, I'll need some sort of homing signal to help me find my way back with any survivors. Also, I need you to start clearing a runway for the Cessna; if I can retrieve the plane, I'll come back for you." But Jamie was still far from reassured.

"What if something goes wrong? What if the hostiles return for another attack while you're gone? I don't even have a weapon…" Although irritated, Robbins explained.

"Keep your glider distress beacon on all the time," he instructed, "This way, I'll be able to track your signal on the Cessna's radio. If trouble arouses, turn it off and I will know there is trouble. Also, it will give us a better chance of being spotted by another rescue party that may come looking for us." Although still disappointed at not being allowed to join in the search, Jamie finally gave in, realising he would be of more help here than out there, where he'd probably be a liability to Robbins.

"Don't you worry son," replied the man reassuringly, "If your father is still alive, I'll bring him back safely. And I'll give that miserable bastard Johnson his just deserts at the first opportunity I get…" He turned to look at the setting sun.

"It's going to be dark soon," he said, "I suggest we sleep here tonight and I'll set off at first light, so I'll have a whole day's worth of sunlight to travel by." They turned and headed back to the warren to get some shut-eye. Lost in thoughts of his father's fate, Jamie didn't notice Snitter suddenly start barking and growling in the direction of the forest, almost as if they were being watched by some unseen spectator he alone could scent…

That night, Jamie drifted off to sleep, thinking about his future. Although relieved to have finally found a safe place to stay, not to mention having picked up his father's trail, there was no way as far as he could tell, of getting back to his home time, even if he did find his father. Never again would he enjoy the pleasures of _Classics Illustrated_ comic books, of the Internet, of television, of bicycles, of flush toilets, of fast food, of his mother's love and devotion…

Forcibly holding back a tear, reminding himself that it was pointless dwelling on things that couldn't be changed, and that he would need all his strength if he wished to survive now, he drifted off to sleep, haunted by nightmares of his father being killed by Johnson, who then morphs into Robbins and then a gigantic one-eyed rabbit with a fierce stare…

After waiting several hours to ensure everyone in the warren was asleep, Robbins got up and headed back outside, where he met Cowslip, who was waiting to bid him farewell. Unbeknownst to Jamie or his group, Robbins had been scheming against them from the start, and was now ready to set his own plans in motion.

"You know what I expect you to do?" he asked his associate, keeping his voice to a minimum, in case someone below was awake and eavesdropping, "Woundwort and I don't need any unwelcome… liabilities on the loose, while we take care of Johnson and his friends." Cowslip, who had worked as Robbins' accessory on a similar occasion, not so long ago, nodded with an evil smile on his face.

"Never you fear my dear Robbins," replied the sly rabbit in a voice that sounded much like the hiss of a deadly snake about to strike, "Our young friend will soon go the same…_dignified_ way as my peaceful, foolish people. You will never see him again. On one condition though…" he added, his expression suddenly cold and serious.

"Name it."

"I understand your friend General Woundwort is after those ithel and their hlessil sidekicks that tried to deceive me. In exchange for relieving you of this…_hindrance_ you wish to be rid of, I ask that you personally see to it that the traitors Strawberry, Nildrohein and Silverweed, who fled my warren in cowardly betrayal, are dealt with…_properly_."

"Don't give it a second thought pal," replied Robbins with a similarly cold sneer, remembering the rabbits that had deserted and joined Johnson's party on his last visit, "Woundwort and his army will soon make short work of the lot of them once we catch up with them. If they are lucky, maybe they'll get a mass unmarked grave for their remains to go in, once we're through with them!" Robbins and Cowslip chuckled evilly.

Bidding Cowslip farewell, Robbins turned and left the warren, heading towards the edge of the woods, to meet with his secret associates, whom he knew, had been watching them all afternoon but had remained out of sight, without intervening, as per his instructions, awaiting further information on the newly arrived strangers.

Robbins crawled into a secluded spot under some bushes, which was already occupied by three mean-looking rabbits. The first was gigantically large in size, with tar-black fur and a pair of sinister mismatched eyes; one was glaring red like a burning amber and the other milk-white, dead from an old conflict blow that had also left the ugly scarring on the creature's face, which expressed raw power and naked hatred. The second rabbit had similarly dark fur, but, in direct contrast to his master, was a sickly weakling in size, with an evil, blood-curdling sneer on his face. The third was a well-built buck with brown fur and deep green eyes, yet, in direct contrast to both his companions, merely had a stern, rather than an evil, expression on his face, indicating a warm heart suppressed by a strict code of blind loyalty.

"Well, Robbins? Who are they?" asked the leader rabbit General Woundwort, who had recently enlisted Robbins as his ally, after the traitorous man - rather than Johnson - had betrayed and unsuccessfully attempted to murder his companions. It had been only by a complete stroke of luck that an attacking hawk had interrupted his plans, nearly killing him in the process, yet making Johnson's party believe he was dead, allowing him to withdraw and plot revenge from the shadows. By coincidence, he had also met the same Efrafan Wide Patrol, led by Captain Vervain, which had had a previous confrontation with Johnson, making them as vengeful as Robbins, and finding himself some willing allies in the process.

After making a hasty agreement, his new associates had brought him back to Efrafa before General Woundwort. After convincing the evil warlord that Johnson was a grave threat to his power and meant to bring trouble on Efrafa, Woundwort had enlisted his help to overthrow his lurking foe, in exchange for immunity from his wrath, which was the usual fate of any outsiders that run foul of the General's patrols, particularly humans.

On the man's directions, they had returned to where Robbins had last seen his companions-turned-enemies. However, instead than finding Johnson's party, who had since pressed on, they had spotted Jamie's glider on the horizon. Not missing the opportunity, Robbins had instructed his associates to take cover and remain out of sight, while he went to investigate and report back after dark.

"Well, General," he said, slightly stressing the title as if it were something distasteful, "It seems our newcomers are just a lost kid from my time and another bunch of outcasts he picked up. Nothing of importance to us…"

"Nothing of importance?" snapped the skinny rabbit incredulously, "You know the General's stature law: 'any outsiders that see an Efrafan or any other rabbit in the servitude of General Woundwort, henceforth belong to Efrafa, at the General's pleasure, regardless of rank or nationality.' Need I remind you, it is furthermore a capital offence to attempt to conceal strangers…?" But his master cut him off.

"I can speak for myself Captain Vervain. You hold your tongue!" barked General Woundwort and his runty Captain of Owslafa instantly fell silent. He turned to Robbins.

"What is that…young ithe doing here? What does he want?" he asked his human ally and spy, who explained that Jamie was Major McEwen's son out looking for his father, whom they were currently hunting down to kill, along with the rest of Johnson's group.

"That ithe is the _son_ of one of our enemies?" screeched Vervain, "Then he is another potential threat that has to be eliminated before he becomes a liability…!"

"Already taken care of," interrupted Robbins arrogantly, "You really think I was dumb enough not to have thought about this contingency already? However, I think it would be a waste of our time going after him directly; Johnson has already got two days start on us, he knows about Efrafa, and intends to confront us before we do him. That stupid little weasel on the other hand, doesn't realise he is on the brink of a meat grinder over here; I have given specific instructions to Cowslip to make sure his savage custodians pick him up on their next visit, which won't be very long coming, given that Johnson foiled the previous one. Saves us the trouble…"

"I agree with Robbins," added Captain Campion grimly, yet frowning slightly at Robbins' cruel plan of leaving a child to suffer such a terrible death, "By the sound of it, that young ithe is just a lost wonderer, who knows nothing about us; he can go his way. The outsiders however, are a far greater threat to us, given that they know we're coming for them and might be setting up defences right now to fight us when we do." Woundwort seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he turned to his companions.

"Then we better get moving at once," he said, getting up, "Our next stop is Watership Down. And on the way," he added with a slight growl of irritation, "Robbins can take his time to explain why he dragged us all the way out here for nothing. As I recall, I expected him to lead us _directly_ to the outsiders, _without_ making any pointless detours on the way." Robbins however, who had been expecting this topic to come up, the moment he had realised Johnson and his friends had long since fled Cowslip's warren, smirked.

"I would hardly call it a pointless detour General," he smiled triumphantly, "As of this moment, we have a further advantage over the enemy; a little token entrusted to me by that gullible little twerp. Right this way." He led his companions to the edge of the graveyard, where Jamie's newly repaired glider sat waiting for tomorrow's flight; except the flight was now taking off ahead of schedule.

With Woundwort seated in the comfortable passenger seat in the back, and with Vervain and Campion strapped down onto the wings, Robbins prepared for take-off. Now running on its improvised replacement battery, the glider taxied across the deserted field and soared skywards, heading south towards Watership Down, in the hands of its new owners.

**Author's note:** I remind you that this event is taking place around the time Alan and co had discovered the HAB. In the first story, Robbins returns to salvage the cores in the original timeline; this is set in the new timeline Alan and co created by travelling back in time and changing the future. On a side note, to avoid the proofreading problems I had with my previous story, I have gone back and ended the first chapters, as well as added a few extra scenes in chapter 2. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	13. Chapter 13 A Blast from the Past

**January 7****th**** 2013**

"Well, Mr Shelton?"

Josie sat in Sheriff Fowler's office with Fowler and Inspector Charles Santon of Scotland Yard, as they questioned Tom Shelton, now in police custody, on charges of murder and for aiding and abating the now dismantled Red Hand Brotherhood terrorist faction, which had fallen the previous night.

It had been two days since Alan had shown up on her doorstep in the middle of the night, accompanied by those giant talking rabbits from the future. That very same night Josie had learned that her husband and Alan had disappeared after being thrown _forward in time_ by the mysterious Aurora, which had been a wormhole. Stranded in the future, they had discovered the grim realisation that the human race was not meant to survive, and facing extinction within the next few decades. And that wasn't even the biggest problem at hand.

As it turned out, Alan's amazing journey hadn't only been a first-hand tour of the world of the future, but also a journey of self-discovery. Among the many surprises he had encountered, the most unexpected of all had been to finally confront the murderer of his wife and daughter face-to-face, the person who had stolen his life away, now having returned to finish the job. And he hadn't been just any killer, as the authorities had assumed.

Alan's terrible misfortune had been due to the fact that he and his family were being targeted by the infamous Red Hand Brotherhood. According to their hitman Mr Robbins, Alan's late wife had been secretly entrusted with information, which could expose Red Hand and its plans to the authorities, including the existence its top-secret EMP satellite Project Black Inferno, which was being prepared for an orbital nuclear strike. With their entire project in jeopardy, Red Hand's leader Sergey Petrograd, a fanatical former Soviet, had ordered the information recovered at all costs, and any witnesses, including the Johnson family, killed.

Following the murder of Alan's wife and daughter, but with the evidence still not found, Red Hand had continued watching Alan's every move from the shadows for months, hoping he might know something and would lead them to the punch. Until finally, two weeks ago, it had been decided that he knew nothing and that they would be far better off with him dead.

Posing as a documentarian, Robbins had 'hired' Alan and Derek as scientific consultants for a documentary of the bombed New Forest area, intent on killing them in mid-flight over the dead zone. However, his plans had been unexpectedly interrupted, when he had found himself alongside his intended victims, huddled forward into the future. However, after assessing his situation and realising the rare opportunity presented to him, he had decided to stick to his original plan.

As it turned out, in the original future, Red Hand had simply aborted following Sergey's death from a heart attack last week, taking the secret location of the satellite's power modules to the grave with him. Robbins however, being Sergey's most influential trustee, had also known the secret location and decided to use it to his advantage. Allying himself with a certain General Woundwort, the descendant of the very rabbit that would someday overthrow the human race, and who was still waging war against any opposition, Robbins has set out to destroy Alan and his friends.

Believing he could easily manipulate the power-hungry warlord for his own dark ends, Robbins, with the cooperation of his new ally, had retrieved the scattered components of Project Black Inferno from their secret burial sites. Picking up where Sergey had left off, he had planned on using his old faction's weapon of mass destruction to wipe out the future world, including his new associates, as well as Alan's party, and escape in the chaos with a bounty that would be worth a fortune back in the 21st century.

However, Alan, also aware of Woundwort's treat from his knowledge of the _Watership Down_ story, from which the future world had originated from, had attempted to strike first with the help of his new friends. Despite their efforts, the outcome had been nothing but a complete failure on both sides; Project Black Inferno had been launched in the conflict, unleashing its catastrophic power upon the future world. Alan, with his five surviving friends had managed to escape, by fleeing back to the 21st century; their new mission, to change the course of history. And that meant a direct confrontation with the Red Hand Brotherhood, to remove Project Black Inferno from the equation and spare the future world from the destruction that had befallen it.

Using all the information he had gathered throughout his journey in the future, as well as any leads Josie had been able to give him, Alan and his companions had embarked on their new mission. For a whole day and night, Josie had once again sat worrying; but this time it wasn't so much about her husband, as about _Alan_. After hearing his story on the night of his return, she had realised that her only chance of ever finding her husband and son again rested entirely on her old friend. Then, the impossible had happened.

Alan, with only his five rabbit friends, and Dr Drake - the foretold creator of the future world - on his side, had emerged triumphant. The Red Hand Brotherhood was finished, its faction members dead or arrested, their headquarters destroyed, and Project Black Inferno lost in deep space forever. Unfortunately, Alan had heroically 'perished' in the destruction of Buxton Hall before he could have his name cleared of the crimes Red Hand had smeared it with…or so the world would ever know.

Inspector Santon, the investigator who had originally been assigned to hunt down the fugitive Alan, after discovering the truth, had volunteered to help them fulfil the last part of their mission: make sure the secret of the future was buried forever, which meant getting the rabbits and the now-declared-dead Alan, as well as the small group of people he had selected, including Josie and Santon, safely back to the future, where they intended to build a new world with their rabbit friends.

Tom Shelton, Red Hand's facilitator, had been arrested the night before after a confrontation with Alan, which had landed him in a frozen lake from where the police had fished him out, frostbitten and hypothermic, but still alive. Following his discharge from hospital, the police had been restlessly grilling him for information, desperate for more leads on the escaped Red Hand Brotherhood faction members, including Sergey's short-lived, ruthless successor Sven Shertok, who was currently on the top of Scotland Yard's most wanted criminal list.

Although Josie had been horrified to learn that the father of her son's best friend was a murderer, she hadn't taken long to realise that Shelton probably knew something more about her son, which he had apparently withheld from her earlier. Alan had already confirmed that her husband was still stranded in the future, but had known nothing about Jamie's fate, making her feel uncertain, as to whether or nor she was on the right trail. And to clear up that mystery, she needed to hear the full story from Tom Shelton's own lips.

With Santon's help, she was able to get a brief audience with Shelton, who was currently being denied any unauthorised visitors other than his lawyer, while waiting to be transported to a Scotland Yard holding facility, pending his trial. The flight controller now sat in handcuffs at the table, several of his fingers bandaged from the frostbite he had suffered following his plunge into the lake, looking very nervous indeed.

"All right, I _did_ see the boy," he stammered, as he launched into the full story of what had happened the night Jamie had disappeared. He told them how the boy had come to see him at his house, bringing his father's insurance money with him, and how Shelton, desperate to pay off his debts, since Sergey hadn't paid him, had traded the glider for the money. He also told them how he had found Kenny at the flight club the following morning in a state of shock, who told him what had happened.

"And you didn't tell anyone?" screeched Josie incredulously, her eyes flashing with anger, "You just let my 13-year-old son trade my husband's money for that confounded glider and then kept quiet about it?! What kind of a person are you?" Shelton didn't reply, refusing to look at Josie, apparently regretting his actions. Or was it something else?

"What about your son, Mr Shelton?" continued Santon, his voice frosty, "We have had people trying to bring him in for questioning all day and he is nowhere to be found. We already know from that deed of sale we found at your house that you invested the money for a hot-air balloon for your club, which seems to be missing as well I might add. Conning a child into doing such a dirty business bargain is easy but keeping it a secret is another, Mr Shelton. Perhaps you thought your son might start blabbing soon or later and decided to do something _drastic_ about it?"

Whatever Shelton had done to Kenny, Josie never found out for certain; that very night, Tom Shelton was shot dead in his holding cell, along with any other captured Red Hand faction members, sparing him a lifetime in prison. His murderer, Sven Shertok escaped and was never apprehended.

As for Josie, she went ahead with her decision and departed with Alan and the others the very next day. In order to justify her disappearance, she had informed old Mike that she had decided to leave town for good and move away, the memories of her late family being too unbearable, and had forwarded her old home and all her husband's possessions to him. Santon, unfortunately, came down with a bad hernia and was hospitalised the night before departure, consequently missing the one and only flight to the new world, before the Aurora receded, making any further time-travelling impossible.

By next Christmas, the entire McEwen family were nothing more than a tragic, yet popular tale, recited to passing tourists by locals. The story of Alan Johnson became an even more popular legend in those parts, almost surpassing the tale of _Watership Down_ itself, attracting curious spectators to his empty grave in Newtown Churchyard, in the years that followed. Little did the world realise that the McEwen family wasn't entirely gone from this world, but rather living in another day and age…

**March 16****th**** 2791, Newtown Churchyard **

Jamie, Hannah and Ash stood on the edge of Newtown Churchyard, where they had left the repaired glider last night. Now, the only thing that could be found were some small tyre tracks across the clearing, from where the glider had taken off while they had been asleep, and some footprints the thieves had left behind.

They had woken up that morning to find Robbins gone; Cowslip had denied any knowledge of why he had left or where he had gone. Hurrying back to the landing site, Jamie's worst fear was instantly confirmed: his new companion had set off on the search and rescue for his father without him, apparently intent to avoid any further arguments of Jamie coming along. Or so he thought.

"That's odd," Ash said, picking up an unfamiliar scent, "His tracks lead back here all right; only, he seems to have been accompanied by some other rabbits when he took off…_strangers_, judging by the scent. There is something very wrong here…"

"Maybe some of Cowslip's rabbits volunteered to join him in the search?" Jamie suggested, feeling puzzled, "It doesn't make sense…"

"No more sense than why he would take any of those weirdoes back there as his escorts, rather than us," Hannah added, also feeling baffled, "Cowslip's bunch are idle as sheep; frankly, I am not sure if we are dealing with sane rabbits or retards…"

"So what do we do now, Ash?" asked Jamie, feeling lost; being stranded centuries away from his home and with his glider now taken, he was fresh out of ideas for any further plans. Ash considered for a moment, his Owsla training kicking in.

"I think it's best that we stay put and wait; Robbins explained his plan and expects to meet us back here when he returns. We'll give him three days; if he doesn't show up by then, we'll renew the plan accordingly. That's safer than to try following him on foot."

With no better suggestions to offer, they turned and headed back to the warren. By that time, Cowslip's rabbits were also awake and coming outside to catch the morning breeze before breakfast. Jamie had half-expected their hosts to be more…_aware_ by now, but instead saw the same near-trance-like state he had observed last night.

Unfamiliar with how these rabbits got their meals, they followed them to a small clearing close to the warren, where they were all gathering around a large pile of greeneries, including lettuce, carrots, potatoes, celery, mallow, apples and berries, which Jamie couldn't remember seeing there last night, much less knowing where they had come from. However, his hunger was too much for him to concern himself with that at the moment.

Although the food was wholesome and good, much of the stuff was dirty and soggy, indicating that it wasn't kept under ideal storage conditions, probably harvested from the wild. While his friends hungrily helped themselves to the vegetables, which were an aristocratic dish for their normally simple vegetarian diet of coltsfoots and dandelions, Jamie picked out an armful of the best greens for his breakfast. Then came another problem: the apples and lettuce he could eat raw just like his friends; other stuff however, like the potatoes, would need cooking first.

Walking a safe distance away, to give himself some privacy, he got to work, preparing his first hot lunch. Since he had no cooking utensils of any kind, the only method of cooking would have to be roasting. After consulting his SAS guide for the safety rules of campfires, with Hannah's help, he got to work building the fire. After placing several stones in a small circle, improvising a hearth, he started gathering all the dry wood he could find, while the confused Hannah gathered all the tinder she could find, in the form of twigs and dry weeds, according to Jamie's instructions.

Soon, the fuel for the fire lay neatly stacked on the hearth, awaiting the spark. Opening up the survival tin he had salvaged from the chopper, he took out the box of matches; ten waterproof matches, enough for a ten-day survival period in the wilderness, after which, it would require the flints to keep making fires. Flashing Hannah a smile, he struck the match on the rough side of the box; the mouse gave a yelp of fear and run to hide behind Jamie, as the seemingly insignificant twig her friend was holding, burst into flame at the tip. Soon, they had a roaring campfire going.

Skewering one potato on the end of his knife, he held it over the fire, slowly turning it over every few minutes, baking it. But without any experience in cooking – his mother had always been the cook in the house – it took some trial and error, as well as several wasted potatoes, burned charcoal black on the outside and the inside still raw, before he finally got it right. An hour later, he had several baked potatoes ready for serving.

When he tried to offer Hannah a share, the mouse hesitated, cringing in disgust at the sight of the sizzled, smoky potato. She sniffed cautiously, taking in the alien smell of cooked food. However, her curiosity and hunger soon overpowered, her sense of smell telling her it was something good. Taking a hasty bite, her eyes bulged in delight; it was definitely far more appetizing than stale seeds and fruit she was accustomed to.

He was just about to help himself to lunch as well, when he heard a faint moan beside him; Snitter was sitting in an attention posture, licking his lips, his eyes wide in protest. Jamie sighed, realising his canine friend hadn't had anything to eat since leaving home and was starving. He would have to provide some suitable nourishment for him as well, and soon.

Looking around, he saw several wormholes nearby. Although obviously not as good as canned dogfood, it was better than trying to make him a vegetarian like a rabbit. Gathering up as many worms as he could find, he wrapped them around a stick, preparing a gruesome kebab, fit only for a dog's diet…maybe. After roasting the 'kebab', turning the rubbery worm flesh to a tender peccary, and adding some baked potato skins to improve the taste, he turned to the hungry dog, which was wagging his tail excitedly for the upcoming meal.

Hannah cringed in disgust as Snitter took a few uncertain sniffs at his new menu, before devouring the wormroll with great gusto, finally satisfying his hunger, "Does he always eat disgusting stuff like that? It makes me sick to even think of sharing his meal…"

"Then would you rather I offer you up to him as a _mouseburger_ instead?" asked Jamie humorously, giving Hannah a playful nudge. Although slightly taken aback by the suggestion, she grinned, realising her human friend was just being funny. "Not in your wildest dreams, ithe!"

Suddenly, they were caught off-guard by a frightened gasp; turning, they saw two of Cowslip's rabbits standing nearby, looking terrified at the sight of the fire, their trance suddenly forgotten. _They've been pretending to be in a trance?_ thought Jamie in surprise as he watched the two rabbits continue to fret.

"Frith of Inle, fire! Get back Marigold!" shouted the pale brown buck with olive-green eyes to his companion, before rounding on Jamie as well, "You dumb ithe, get away from that thing! If you touch it, it will burn you alive!" The rabbit, apparently thinking Jamie was messing with something he had no idea how dangerous it was, like a careless kitten, looking scared stiff with terror. His fear turned to confusion as he saw Jamie, having realised what the fuss was all about, chuckling in amusement, "What in Frith's name…?"

"Relax pal; this is a _controlled fire_, not a bushfire. There is nothing to worry about. It's quite safe," he said, striking another match in demonstration, causing them to gasp in amazement at his 'magic powers'. Although the rabbits seemed all but convinced at Jamie's reassurance, jumping at the slightest crackle of the burning wood, they eased up somewhat, their curiosity starting to kick in. In contrast to the idle, lifeless behaviour they had displayed so far, now, as if suddenly nudged out of their shells by their shock of Jamie's fire, they looked just as awake and alert as every other rabbit Jamie had met in this world.

_Whatever is causing them to play idle, certainly hasn't crushed their spirit_, Jamie thought with a frown, suddenly becoming suspicious. Why would these rabbits want to put up an _act_ of idleness, only to be caught red-handed in an unexpected moment of surprise? What could they be hiding? Seeing his chance to find out, he introduced himself and Hannah, trying to make friendly conversation, pretending he hadn't noticed their curious change of attitude.

The pair introduced themselves as Hickory and his mate Marigold. Both were natives of Cowslip's warren; Hickory's parents had been former hlessil, who had joined Cowslip's warren long ago, but had since passed away, while Marigold was one of Cowslip's two daughters, and betrothed to Hickory. Her sister Nildrohein had similarly been betrothed to another of Cowslip's people, a rabbit called Strawberry, but they too had also recently died in 'an unfortunate accident', according to Cowslip.

Jamie told his two new friends about himself, his home, and the journey that had brought him here. The rabbits looked utterly amazed at the description of Jamie's home time, a world they could hardly imagine, let alone seen before.

"What's life like, where you come from?" asked Hickory, his growing excitement suddenly taking on a touch of sadness, almost as if he envied Jamie's happy life.

"Where my friends and family are, it's all the same to me," Jamie said, reflecting on his happy childhood, one that was now ruined forever, "Too bad the human world isn't as peaceful and pristine as this place though. Violence, pollution, poverty and warfare is becoming the order of every day, all around the world…"

"What wouldn't we give to have a life like yours Jamie…"muttered Marigold with a sad sigh before suddenly falling silent, putting her paws up to her mouth, her eyes wide with terror, as if she had just spoken some forbidden words. Jamie too found that statement rather odd, given that, at first glance, these rabbits had no reason not to be happy. After all, they had a fine warren, plenty of food, each other's companionship… Then again, what was their peculiar behaviour all about? Could it be linked?

Before he could build up the courage to inquire about it however, they were suddenly interrupted by Cowslip, who emerged from the foliage without warning, wearing an expression of a parent having caught his children up to mischief.

"Sharing secrets are we, friends? And you didn't ask me to join you?" he asked in his usual sickly sweet voice, which made the rabbits visibly shudder and even sent a chill down Jamie's spine. "Tut tut, Hickory and Marigold, now what have I told you about not being a nuisance to our guest?"

"Hey, they weren't being a nuisance pal, we were just talking…" But Cowslip paid Jamie no attention as he shooed Hickory and Marigold away, leaving a bewildered Jamie standing alone with Hannah still perched on his shoulder. Ash and the others, who had also heard the commotion, came up to Jamie as they watched Cowslip lead his daughter and son-in-law back to the warren, like a sheep dog keeping his master's flock in check.

"What was all that about?" asked Ash, also sharing Jamie's suspicions that something was seriously wrong here. In spite of the mystery of Cowslip's strange warren, the thought of his father and in what condition Robbins was likely to find him – if he ever did – quickly pushed the Cowslip mystery out of the boy's mind.

Cowslip led the two nervous rabbits back underground for a private lecture. Casting a quick glance to ensure there was no one else around to watch him disciplining the pair, he rounded on History and Marigold, his face now a mask of burning rage.

"You miserable little wretch!" he hissed at his daughter, looking as if about to cuff her across the face, "I thought I said the young ithe was not to be spoken to and that includes attracting his attention in any way. And now I catch you…"

"We were only _talking_ Cowslip, honest!" protested Hickory, coming to his mate's defence, "He was telling us about his world…" But Cowslip was beyond listening to excuses.

"Defy me again – either of you – and I will see to it that you share the boy's fate. Don't think you can warn him behind my back; that traitor Silverweed may be gone but I can hear every word that is being exchanged between any rabbit in my warren. Your dear sister and her hrakamarli mate have probably got their comeuppance by now; my other daughter going the same bad way would be such a pity…" he muttered, the insane gleam reappearing in his eyes. Without another word, he turned and strode back outside, leaving the frightened pair to reflect on everything their master had just said.

Marigold had been born to a litter of three; herself, her sister Nildrohein, and her late brother Laburnum. Throughout her life, she and her friends had been living under the shadow of her insane father, who literally had their entire existence outlined for them according to the norms of his philosophy of 'an easy life.' In contrast to normal rabbits, which gave all elil a wide berth, the ancestral founder of their warren, Greenweed had perverted their natural status by making a 'pact' with the deadliest of creatures: _Man_.

An ambitious fellow, dedicated to bring rabbitkind out of its miserable existence of hardships, hunger and enemies, as well as inspired by the easy life humanity's powers provided, Greenweed had set out to make his people dependant on their savage descendants, which still retained some of their extinct ancestors' primitive skills of hunting and food gathering. As far as he was concerned, the price of being dependant on a natural enemy for their own welfare outweighed the difficulties of life as independent rabbits.

According to the legend, Greenweed had employed the powers of mystic rabbits to tap into the minds of those unintelligent humanoids, training them as 'custodians' for his warren, at the price of sacrificing some of his people to them at random intervals, to retain the pact. Woundwort's ancestor Hemlock had also made a similar pact – which he had broken after it had served its purpose however – by training more of the humanoids as muscle against their intelligent predecessors, on the former's suggestion and instruction, earning Greenweed's warren eternal amnesty from Efrafa's conquering forces in return.

Cowslip - Greenweed's direct descendant - was the current keeper of the pact, as well as the most fanatical. Starting with her mother when she and her siblings had still been kittens, Marigold had watched her friends and family slowly disappear one by one as time went by. Although it was common knowledge that those missing had been taken as food by the humanoids on their visits, leaving the rest of the warren with a fresh and ample supply of food, as well as chasing away any elil that came too close.

As per Greenwood's plan, their warren had no fear of enemies, predators or starvation; there was only one thing to fear…a secret that was always kept well hidden behind Cowslip's law of pretending it wasn't there at all. Indeed, the instant a rabbit went missing, his existence was entirely erased, his name never spoken again. Cowslip was firm when it came to that and ruthlessly punished anyone who disobeyed him or opposed his authority. And the key instrument to enforce it was his deputy, Silverweed.

A descendant of Greenweed's original mystics, the rabbit used his mind-penetrating powers to keep the humanoids, as well as Cowslip's subjects, in check via mental influencing. Then, only a few days ago, Cowslip's firm control had suffered a devastating blow from the arrival of some strange visitors.

A group of hungry hlessil, led by several talking humans, had come seeking shelter. Cowslip, whose warren's population had been decreasing recently due to an overexploitation by the humanoids, had admitted them with open paws, secretly intent on offering them up as the next sacrifice to their custodians, as he did with all unsuspecting newcomers, which soon fell victim to Silverweed's powers.

It came as quite a surprise to him however, when it turned out that these strangers already knew of Cowslip's dark pact and had come to undo it! Sure enough, in the ensuing confrontation, Silverweed had been incapacitated, momentarily losing his psychic grip over everyone's minds.

It was like waking up from a deep sleep; with Silverweed's controlling presence in their minds interrupted, Marigold and her people suddenly found themselves 'awake' again: their fear for their tharn lives and their will to oppose their mad leader was now stronger than ever. Nildrohein and Strawberry hadn't hesitated to seize the opportunity at the first instance and joined the hlessil; the others however, hesitant and confused, had turned down the offer.

Meanwhile, Cowslip, furious at his two subjects deserting, hadn't wasted any time in trying to clean up the mess the hlessil had caused; to his utmost outrage, he had found that Silverweed, who seemed to have had some change of heart after his encounter with the strangers, was no longer willing to do his bidding, and had soon deserted himself. A furious and desperate Cowslip had been left to deal with his rapidly declining grip over his subjects on his own. As a result, his usually sickly sweet nature had suddenly become violent and abusive, in a desperate effort to maintain control, by threats and intimidation.

Marigold, being Cowslip's last surviving child, after his intended heir Laburnum had been taken before he could take over his father's place for which he was being taught, and Nildrohein had deserted, was the one currently receiving the worst of her father's abuse. Desperate for a reliable heir to continue his ancestor's pact, Cowslip intended to force her and Hickory into making his philosophy their virtue, by breaking their spirit if necessary. However, in spite of all the abuse and threatening them and their friends, without Silverweed's powers to manipulate their minds into submission, their determination for a proper life was proving too strong to suppress. However, they still lacked the courage and the ability to strike back without help.

The arrival of Jamie's group had been a Frith-sent opportunity for the pair; having deeply regretted their rash decision to turn down the opportunity of escape presented by their previous visitors, Marigold was determined not to miss this second - and possibly last - chance for freedom. Fully aware of her father's plan to have the young ithe and his friends killed in revenge, she knew they had to do something. But how?

At sundown that evening, Jamie found himself on the edge of the graveyard, accompanied by his friends, building the signal fire Robbins had instructed them to make, so the latter could find his way back. His friends had finished digging a pit to serve as a hearth, which Jamie then started filling with firewood. By nightfall, they had a roaring bonfire going, visible for several miles in any direction, lighting up the clearing. The glider's distress transmitter was duct-taped to a nearby tree, still pointlessly beaming its emergency signal on the air, in the unlikely possibility that someone out there might hear it, its battery slowly dying.

Making themselves comfortable on the grass around the fire, the group sat, enjoying their evening, waiting for the flames to die down, before they could retire for the night. With the fire keeping any lurking predators at bay, there was no fear of attack, making it more comfortable above ground than in the stuffy, cramped burrows below.

With Nightshade playing a game of Bobstones with Willow, and Ash stargazing with Celandine, Jamie sat with Hannah on a nearby tombstone, taking inventory of everything he had, and how he could use it best, now that he knew he was to be struck here for a long while, maybe for good.

From the glider kit, he still had the first aid pouch, the marker and the flashlight; these would be of good use as long as the batteries, ink and medical supplies held out. Also, he still had the distress flare – the only thing that could be used as a weapon -, which he was carefully saving for any absolute emergency. His survival guide and knife were proving to be his most valuable assets out here and he'd better watch them with his life. Likewise, the survival tin from the chopper was a small treasure chest, its precious contents of flints, clips, fishing hooks, blades, thread, needles, and saw-wire providing him with the essentials for making many useful tools. Finally, his cell phone would serve as a means of recording his visual log, as long as the battery and memory lasted, after which he would have to switch to his notebook and pencil for recording his adventures.

As he sat there, entertaining Hannah with the latest log entry he had recorded with her, they were suddenly caught off guard by Ash, who sat up in alarm. The others turned to look at him in surprise, "Ash, what's up your ear bucko?"

"Quiet, everyone!" the Owsla veteran snapped, sniffing the air, having picked up a new scent lurking nearby, "I think we have company…" They all turned to look in the direction of the woods; sure enough, they saw a rustling in the distance, indicating something – or someone – was approaching, their signal fire apparently having caught his attention. Jamie's eyes instantly darted to Snitter; to his utmost surprise, his faithful dog, instead of growling in warning of an approaching enemy, was waging his tail excitedly, barking cheerfully, as if recognising a familiar scent.

Taking out his flashlight, Jamie shone it in the direction of the approaching newcomer; the beam of light fell upon the dark silhouette of a figure emerging from the trees. The boy gasped in surprise as he recognised the outline of a human being! The stranger seemed to be limping in a crouched position, almost dragging himself, as if from an injury or perhaps mere exhaustion, heading straight towards them, before his last ounce of strength finally left him and he collapsed.

Breaking into a run, Jamie hurried towards the fallen figure. Could it be Robbins, returning from his search? Was he injured? Or maybe it was his father, having escaped and found his way to them? He stopped dead in his tracks as the flashlight revealed the face of the unconscious figure lying on the ground. It wasn't Robbins at all; it wasn't his father either; and it wasn't even Johnson.

It was Kenny.

Jamie gasped in shock as he recognised none other that his best friend, whom he had given up for long dead, lying battered and exhausted at his feet. A quick glance told him that Kenny must have had a hell of a rough time getting here; his oversized clothes were shredded and mud-caked, with ghastly scratches and bruises visible on every bit of exposed skin. But, to Jamie's utmost relief, he was still alive…barely.

Five minutes later, Jamie and his group were hurryingly carrying the unconscious Kenny down to the warren for treatment. Jamie, heaving at Kenny's weight on his shoulders, had his mind racing. How could his friend have found his way into the future? Was he alone? And what was he doing here in the first place? Many uneasy thoughts went through the boy's head, as well as a bad feeling for Mr Robbins and his story of what had happened to his father…

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay but I am working as a teacher now and my fanfiction writing time is limited. For those of you who have read me first story carefully might remember that balloon Alan and co found and used to fly to Efrafa; that had been Tom Shelton's, which he had purchased on McEwen's insurance money as a replacement for his lost Cessna and glider. How Kenny found his way into the future will be explained in the next chapter. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	14. Chapter 14 The Oppressed Strike Back

Jamie and his friends sat around the sleeping Kenny in the burrow. It had been several hours since they had found the youngest Shelton on the edge of the woods and brought him back to the warren, to tend to his wounds. Jamie had unpacked the first aid pouch for his survival kit and, using his trusty SAS guide as a medical reference, had gotten to work, nursing his injured friend back to health.

Lying on the fresh straw bedding the rabbits had gathered for him, wrapped in the tinfoil survival blanket from the chopper to keep him warm, and using Jamie's jacket as a pillow, Kenny slept soundly, worn out from exhaustion. With Hannah's help, Jamie carefully cleaned and patched up his friend's wounds, using his meagre supply of antiseptic pads and band-aids.

Fortunately, as it turned out, Kenny hadn't suffered any serious injuries, other than several cuts and bruises, as well as a sprained wrist, and was soon comfortable. While tending to his friend's wounds, Jamie had gone through the injured boy's pockets, looking for anything that might tell them where had Kenny come from. All he could find were an old photograph of his mother, a crumpled-up leaflet of some description and, to his utmost amazement, a wallet, which couldn't possibly belong to Kenny, given that he never got anything from his father other than a plate of food and his hand-me-downs. Straightening out the leaflet, he saw it came from Tom Shelton's flight club:

SUTCH AND MARTIN'S

FLIGHT CLUB

RE-OPENING TODAY!

BALLOON FLIGHTS UP TO THE AURORA

LIMITED FLIGHTS; BOOK WHILE YOU STILL CAN!

DISCOUNTS FOR GROUPS AND CHILDREN

Opening up the wallet, Jamie gasped as he read the name on the owner's driving licence, "_Stan Hallows_… Wait a minute, I know this guy! He works for Kenny's dad at the flight club!" Stan Hallows, Tom Shelton's radioman and reserve pilot at the flight club had been an acquaintance of Major McEwen's, from whenever he would charter the glider for Jamie's flying lessons. But how could the man's wallet have ended up in Kenny's possession? And, most importantly, where was Hallows? Was he here too? Had something happened to him? His thoughts were cut short as Marigold entered, carrying a mouthful of fresh straw for Kenny's bedding, which she had been gathering with Celandine.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Jamie nodded in gratitude but Marigold had already turned and left, almost as if to avoid conversation. Making a mental note to thank her later, he applied the straw to his friend's bed, making him as comfortable as possible. With nothing left to do but wait for Kenny to awake and tell them his story, the others drifted off to sleep as well, completely unaware of the dark fate which Cowslip had in store for them. Their only chance of realising the danger before it was too late lay in the paws of a certain doe…

The following morning, Jamie found himself up at early dawn, making his way down to a nearby stream for water, and to look for some food for Kenny, who was expected to awake soon, and Jamie was sure his friend would be terribly hungry and thirsty. Since the Enborne was a couple of miles walk, too far away for his liking, he made for the new unnamed tributary he had seen nearby from his glider.

After a short stroll through the woods, he found the stream, running approximately through where, Jamie remembered, one of the local highways from his time had once been, its winding body of water flowing towards the south, possibly towards the coast. Taking out the small hydration pouch he had salvaged from the chopper, he filled it up with water. Although hardly a pint, it would suffice to get his sick friend back on his feet. Suddenly, something caught his eye.

Lying washed up in the rushes and reeds at the water's edge was an inflatable yellow dingy, of the type often used in emergencies. Grabbing hold of the nylon cord attached to the paddle trailing away from the dingy, he dragged it ashore. The raft was swamped and covered in stray aquatic plants, which it had picked up while drifting downriver, showing every sign of being abandoned. Upon closer inspection, Jamie recognised it as the evacuation raft from Johnson's Cessna.

_They must have been using it to make their way down the river_, Jamie thought, but then realised something was wrong, _But then again, if they made it here, then how come nobody at Cowslip's warren saw them passing through?_ According to Robbins' story, after his father's group had been ambushed by those hostile rabbits set upon them by Johnson, he alone had escaped and made it to Cowslip's warren. But if they had abandoned their boat and continued on foot from _here_, then shouldn't the 'ambush' have occurred in the vicinity of the warren? It seemed curious that Cowslip and his people hadn't noticed something… But the thought of Kenny's condition snapped him back to reality. Dismissing these peculiar circumstances as a mere coincidence, he turned back to his task.

After washing his face and hands and having a drink of water himself, he turned to pick some blackberries and blueberries for his sick friend, when he encountered an even greater surprise than the abandoned dingy. In front of him, in a spot where he had not yet stepped, was a man's footprint.

Jamie was stunned; it was, without a shadow of a doubt, the footprint of a human being, and the thinness of the crust accumulating around the edge of the print told him it was very recent, a few hours old at best. For an instant, he thought it might just be one of Kenny's from last night; but then he realised it was far too big to be his friend's, or any normal-sized human being's for that matter. This was barefoot and size around a hundred at least, like that of a giant.

_Bloody hell, not even Rubeus Hagrid was this big!_ thought Jamie, staring at more, similarly large footprints scattered about. It seemed that this stranger had also been gathering food, judging by the stripped branches of several fruit trees and bushes around. Bending to examine a bed of wild potatoes growing in a patch of light at the foot of a tree – probably former crops that had adapted to the wilderness over the centuries – he noticed that while much of it had been picked, some still remained, apparently deliberately. The memory of a documentary on apes he had seen on the _Discovery Channel_ long ago flashed into Jamie's mind, as he recalled a famous line: _'Apes have the intelligence of leaving some pigeon eggs behind in their mothers' nests, so that there will be more pigeons around to continue laying eggs for them…'_

His mind turned to that food mysteriously appearing outside the warren the other day; could this be where it had all come from? Then again, if it wasn't the rabbits who were gathering it – as he had originally assumed -, how did this stranger fit in? Did this mean there were other humans still around? That might explain Cowslip's curious acceptance of him, in contrast to his Sandleford companions…

At that moment, his thoughts were interrupted by Celandine, who came running from the warren, calling his name, "You better come. Your friend is awake and on the verge of a hysteria!" Taking his mind off his peculiar discovery, he hurried back to the warren with Celandine, where they found Ash and Nightshade struggling to restrain the semi-hysteric Kenny, who was fighting tooth and nail to bolt for the exit.

"Frith of Inle, calm down young bucko!" bellowed Ash, struggling to restrain the frightened boy, "We aren't going to hurt you…!"

"No, I won't let you kill me like you did Hallows…!" shouted Kenny, grabbing a stone, about to wallop Ash over the head with it. He froze in mid-blow however as he laid eyes on Jamie, who stepped into the burrow, "_Jamie_…?"

"Yes mate, it's me," said Jamie excitedly, hurrying forward and slapping his friend over the shoulder in greeting, "I can't tell you how jolly good it is to see you!" Although somewhat relaxed at the sight of his presumed-dead friend, Kenny still remained on edge, his eyes darting between Jamie and the giant rabbits standing all around them, as if expecting them to suddenly spring at him.

"Jamie, what…what the hell's going on here? What is this place? W…where did you come from? I thought you were…" he stammered, unable to find his words straight, "Who the bloody hell are _these_ guys?" he finished with a semi-shout, gesturing in the direction of Jamie's band, his eyes wide in amazement and horror.

"Chill out mate!" Jamie said, trying to calm his friend down, "They won't hurt you! They are friends of mine…" he said, launching into his story of how he had come out the other side of the Aurora, only to find himself stranded in this future world, and how he had met and befriended these giant talking rabbits that now inhabited, what had once been, the human world of the 21st century. For some strange reason however, Kenny still seemed more troubled at the sight of Jamie's companions.

"_Friends_?" he retorted incredulously, "Man, I saw a bunch of them rip Mr Hallows to pieces the other day…!" At the mention of Stan Hallows having been murdered by some other savage rabbits out there, perhaps the very same ones Mr Robbins had told them all about, Jamie felt a shudder go down his spine. He turned back to his friend.

"Ken, what happened? How did you get here? Can you tell us?" Although Kenny seemed hesitant at being asked to recite, what had undoubtedly been, a terrible ordeal, that had brought him all the way here, he finally gave in as Jamie passed him the water and fruit, something he had been craving for, after not having eaten anything for days. Draining the water pouch like a sieve, he started devouring the blackberries with such speed and gusto, he was barely chewing anything.

With the nourishment having restored some of his strength and confidence, Kenny finally launched into his story, beginning from where he and Jamie had lost radio contact on that fateful night…

_**1**__**st**__** January 2013**_

_Kenny sat with his father in their kitchen, at dinner; the younger Shelton sat as if in a trance, still in shock from what had happened last night, his untouched supper on the table before him. His father, on the other hand, was eating with a feverish appetite, grinning like a kid in a candy store, the briefcase containing Jamie father's insurance money lying open on the rickety chair beside him._

_Tom had woken up that morning with a furious hangover but his mind clear enough to remember Jamie's crazy visit the night before, and this time, was thinking straight enough to realise what he had done. Rushing over to the flight club, he had found the glider gone and his son curled up in a corner of the radio shack, in a state of shock, who told him what had happened to Jamie. _

_Seizing the opportunity, instead of alerting the police, Tom had hurryingly taken his son home, intent on keeping everyone from knowing he had been there that night. After covering up all evidence of his and his son's involvement and setting things up at the flight club to make it look like a break-in, he had then alerted Sheriff Fowler of the 'theft'. Josie had also been alerted and soon the word spread that Jamie McEwen had gone the same way as his father._

_The authorities had been questioning Tom all day; however, with some careful, smooth talking - which was Shelton's one and only virtue – the sly flight controller had wormed his way out of trouble and the full blame went to Jamie alone. His carefully rehearsed explanation had also kept Kenny out of the loop, keeping his son, as well as the full truth, well hidden. _

_No sooner had he returned home than he had taken Kenny aside for a talk. The boy had half-expected his semi-abusive father to start yelling at him again, holding him responsible for all that trouble; however, for the first time in his life, Kenny had found himself being congratulated for 'making his father proud' and had ordered in a big dinner, to celebrate his son's 'success' in dragging them out of poverty. Kenny however, wasn't in the mood for celebration, much less keen on helping himself to the blood money that had belonged to his friend's father._

"_I'd like to propose a toast!" Tom said excitedly, filling two glasses of apricot brandy and passing one to his son, who didn't even look at it, "To you Ken, my boy! And to our new beginning!" In addition to the money, Tom had found another profitable opportunity: the incident with all these curious disappearances had attracted a lot of media attention, with reporters and thrill-seekers alike desperate to retrace Johnson and McEwen's steps by air. Although the RAF had banned all flights in the area, pending an investigation, several bribes had been offered to local outfits for a flight over New Forest. And Tom Shelton had seized the opportunity. _

_Using his newfound money, rather than paying off his debts right away, instead he had purchased a hot-air balloon for his flight-club, replacing his lost glider and Cessna, with which he intended to offer illegal flights over New Forest, for people to see the mysterious Aurora up close, at the sum of __10,000 a ride. Since the Aurora was due to recede within the next few days, and not due to reappear for another millennium or so according to experts, bookings were pilling in, along with the money that came with them. He raised his glass and drained it in one gulp but Ken just continued looking at his with a blank stare. Tom frowned at his son's lack of enthusiasm. _

"_Well, what are you waiting for lad? It isn't every day that one makes his old man as proud as you have son…"At this Kenny lost it and sat up with a scream of rage and agony, sending his chair crashing to the floor behind him._

"_No! Give me a break! I got Jamie killed and…" A twinge of anger appeared on the edge of Tom's face, yet his good mood helped him control his own short temper, as he tried to reason with his distraught son._

"_Snap out of it Ken! You are not to blame; after all, from what you've told me, it was Jamie who came up with this crazy idea of going looking for his father; it was he who bought my glider; and it was he who flew it into the forbidden zone at his own risk. If it is of any consolation, the money is his legacy to you; a chance for both of us to escape this crummy life…"_

"_That money belongs to Jamie's mother, not you!" Kenny spat, disgusted by his father's plan to keep Major McEwen's insurance money – which everyone believed had been lost along with Jamie - for himself. But Tom, now getting really irritated, remained persistent._

"_That idiot boy was acting on his own free will, so and it was his own fault that got him killed…!" he snapped, not watching his words. This broke the camel's back, as Kenny sprang at his father and punched him on the nose, sending him staggering backwards. But only for a moment._

_Clutching his bloodied nose, Tom sprang back at his son with a roar of rage, "Strike your own father, you ungrateful little bastard? I'll teach you a lesson in respect!" After beating his son within an inch of his life – Kenny's worst beating ever –, he dragged him up to his room. _

_Kenny's bedroom was a cramped room up in the attic, with pealing paint on its shabby walls, some rickety furniture, a wardrobe of ragged hand-me-downs, and a pile of second-hand schoolbooks on the table, which served as a desk. A crumpled, frameless picture of Ken's mother – the only one he had - was taped to the wall above his pull-me-down bed._

"_Sit down!" he ordered, gesturing at the bed. Kenny, all bruised and battered, obeyed, as his father rounded on him again, "Now, you listen to me boy, and listen good! I don't need your approval or your blessing for anything, nor do I care an iota about your dumb friend getting himself killed. But I am warning you: if you try and make trouble for me, you will wish you were born dead! Mind you, I happen to have some powerful contacts who can make sure any attempt you make to expose me, will only backfire in your stupid face…"_

"_Those bozos you have been sneaking off to see up in Overton every day?" sneered Kenny, nursing his bruised cheek. Tom Shelton's eyes went wide, realising his cat was out of the bag. Kenny, on the other hand, who had only been trying to throw a taunt back at his father, was suddenly fuelled with suspicion. _

"_It was they who were behind all these disappearances, right? Johnson, Mr McEwen, Jamie… It was you all along, wasn't it? Did you kill Jamie too? Huh?" But Tom didn't reply as he turned to leave, muttering curses under his breath. Pausing at the door, he turned to his son again._

"_The balloon will be arriving at the flight club tomorrow. I expect you there first thing in the morning, to give that dump a thorough clean-out and a fresh painting. Hallows will be there as well, getting the new equipment in order. You are not to speak to him unless absolutely necessary; and not a word about the money or what happened here tonight. If you know what's good for you that is…" He stared at Kenny's bruises from the beating, "Go clean yourself up and then get back in your room. If you behave yourself for the rest of the night, maybe you'll get some breakfast tomorrow."_

_Kenny couldn't even find the courage to retort as he lay on his bed, fighting the urge to be sick; not so much for being beaten to a pulp, shouted at, or threatened by his father, whom he now hated worse than ever, but from the fact that he had led his best friend to his death and now his scum of a father would benefit from it and there was nothing he could do about it._

_That night, Kenny got up to sneak downstairs and steal some food from the fridge. Having skipped dinner after the row with his father, his stomach was rumbling with hunger, yet his grief made him wonder if he would be able to swallow anything at all. _

_Noiselessly making his way downstairs in the dark, he crept into the kitchen, making his way to the fridge. Filling his pockets with some leftovers, he was about to return to his room to have his pitiful supper in privacy, when he heard his father's voice in the room next door; Tom was on the phone with someone and his cautious whispering told Ken, it was those guys again. Creeping up to his father's closed office door, he chanced a look through the keyhole and saw his father sitting at his desk, speaking on his private line._

"_I don't know Sven, but that brat of mine knows something that could mean trouble for us if he starts talking. No, no, no, I didn't confide anything in him! The little rat has just been nosing around… That kid's got to go! Hand him over to that human labour trafficking cartel centred in Afghanistan? No, that's too risky; a kidnapping could bring me to the attention of the authorities. No, just make it look like an accident. Tomorrow, on the road back from the flight club, at noon; that rickety bicycle of his should do the trick…"_

_Outside, Kenny felt his stomach bottom out; his father had just committed the ultimate betrayal towards him. Fearful that he may expose his dark secret, he was going to have his goons silence him, either by killing him or selling him into slavery overseas! Hurrying back to his room, he collapsed on the bed, fighting the urge to be sick. What was he going to do now?_

_His first thought was to wait until his father had gone back to bed and then run away. Perhaps he could go to Jamie's mother or Sheriff Fowler, and confess everything… But then he remembered his father's threat; by the sound of it, Tom Shelton meant big business and he had no idea what these 'connections' of his were capable of, other that they meant serious trouble. He was in hot water as it was; what if they harmed anyone he tried talking to? Jamie and his father had been enough…_

_Then suddenly, an idea hit him; a crazy but valiant idea. Remembering what his father had said about the club's new balloon arriving tomorrow meant a chance for him to go searching for his friend, the same way Jamie had done for his father. All he had to do was hitch a ride on the first flight up to the Aurora. Although he couldn't help but feel it was plain suicide, he had nothing left to lose anymore._

_The very next day, Tom took his son up to the flight club as promised, to keep a close eye on him until (as Kenny secretly knew) his secret associates could finish him off when no one was looking. Kenny spent all morning painting the radio shack and hanger, and shovelling snow off the runway, restoring the premises to their former glory, while his father sat comfortably in his office, putting down bookings in his schedule and calculating the money they would fetch. In spite of his long, hard work, Kenny never complained once, his eyes and ears open, waiting for the right moment._

_A delivery truck had arrived, bringing the components for the club's new balloon; Stan Hallows, who had been called off his Christmas leave early, had gotten to work, assembling the contraption. With Julio gone, Hallows, who was a keen balloonist, had been promoted to pilot. By noon, the balloon stood inflated, hovering just above the ground on the end of its moorings. With his father having left for a while, to pick up lunch from town, Kenny saw his chance._

_Abandoning his painting, he approached Hallows, who was having hot tea in the hanger. In direst contrast to Tom, Stan Hallows was always on good terms with Kenny and would help him out with whatever chores his father gave him whenever he brought him over, as well as teach him how to use the club's radio and radar equipment._

"_Hey Ken, what's up lad?" asked Hallows cheerfully, pouring himself some more tea, "Bloody cold day, huh? I say…!" he suddenly gasped, spotting the semi-healed bruises on Kenny's cheek, "What happened to you? Have you and your father been at it again…?"_

_No, I…I just fell off my bicycle the other day," Kenny lied in the most casual voice he could muster, not keen on discussing it, "Stan, I was wondering, when are you going to give this thing a test flight?"_

"_Just as soon as I've finished my tea," said Hallows, draining his mug, "Got to make sure the burners and GPS are in good working order for tonight. We are expecting that rich fellow Mason and his girlfriend here this evening for a night flight. It's going to be a week's worth of bloody long working hours, until that Aurora goes and all those thrill-seekers lose interest. And then, I can get my transfer through to Greenham and move on…"_

"_You'll be leaving then?" asked Kenny, feeling rather sad at the news of Hallows' resignation. Shelton's deputy shook his head sadly._

"_Moving on lad, to a better career with a better pay than this crummy job," he said, "Besides, aren't you selling the business and moving away soon yourself?" Although Kenny was certain this was just a cover-up orchestrated by his father, so that nobody would question his disappearance – everyone would think he had simply moved away with his father – he was anxious to get to the bottom of this before his father came back and decided to cut the chitchat short._

"_Can I join you please? I'd like to see what it's like flying one of these things. Jamie and Mr McEwen always said it just dandy…" Although Hallows had reservations of letting Kenny tag along, mostly due to the extra fuel consumption, his sympathy at the mention of Jamie's name won out and he agreed._

"_All right, get your jacket. We're going now."_

_A few minutes later, the two of them were airborne, hovering a mile above the earth. Kenny stared at the flight club below; he could see a figure running around the premises, apparently confused to find it deserted. His father had returned from lunch only to find him and his precious balloon gone._

"_Curious," said Hallows, taking a weather reading, "There is a steady wind, taking us straight towards New Forest. This wind has been persisting for several days now, almost as if there is something creating a suction over the area. Still, it should make it easier for those tours your father has in mind I suppose…"_

_An hour later, they were floating over the edge of New Forest, getting closer and closer to the place where the Aurora had been appearing every night, the place where Dr Johnson, Major McEwen and Jamie had 'died'. To Kenny's utmost dismay however, there was nothing to be found; no signs of a crash site, no wreckage, no signal fires, nothing. Just an endless landscape of trees and footpaths. A few ponies that had survived the fallout of the bombs during the war, were still roaming about in the snowed-up clearings, but otherwise no signs of life whatever. Kenny started feeling desperate; perhaps there was nothing after all?_

"_We are past the restriction zone; I better get this thing down before we are noticed," said Hallows, preparing to dim the burners. "If we are caught, I'd lose my licence. Let's hope old Toot can get his pickup truck here before a patrolmen finds the balloon…" Before he could start the descent however, the unexpected happened._

_The calm and sunny weather suddenly started going wild; turbulence shook the balloon, forcing Kenny and Hallows to cling to the rigging for dear life, expecting the balloon to be ripped to pieces at any second. The last thought that went through Kenny's mind, before he found himself being hurdled forward through time along with Hallows, was that even if he was going to die like Jamie, at least he would be giving his father his comeuppance, who would never get to profit from Jamie's money after all…_

"Once that strange storm had passed, we found ourselves floating in total darkness – it had turned from _day to night_ during the storm, believe it or not – completely lost. Stan had dropped his cell phone overboard in the storm so we had no communication and there were no lights visible anywhere on the ground. It was like the entire world had gone into blackout…"

"That was because you had jumped forward through time mate, just like I did," said Jamie, recognising the same phenomenon he had encountered when flying his glider through the Aurora, "So what happened next?"

"Without visual, Hallows struggled to keep up aloft until daybreak, until we run out of fuel – we had left the reserve tanks back at the flight club – and we came down somewhere close to the foot of Beacon Hill and Watership Down. Only we found those guys waiting to greet us on the ground…"

"They?" asked Ash sharply, "Who's 'they'?"

"_You_!" bellowed Kenny, "Other giant rabbits like you! Only they were brutal, savage and murderous…"

"I'll thank you not to speak of us like that!" snapped Willow incredulously, insulted by Kenny's remarks, "We aren't brutal, savage and murderous…!"

"Silence Willow!" snapped Ash, silencing up Willow. They turned back to Jamie who continued with the remainder of his story.

"No sooner had we untangled ourselves from the wreckage than those goons were upon us for the kill. We tried to make a run for it through the woods with those things hot on our tail and got separated; I heard Hallows screaming amidst the sounds of a death struggle…" Jamie lowered his head sadly, realising Stan Hallows was a dead man.

"I had a couple of emergency glowsticks from the balloon," Kenny went on, "I was able to make my way back to where I heard the screams. Hallows and those savage rabbits were gone; there was just a lot of disturbed undergrowth splattered with blood, with the man's wallet lying in the middle of it. I think it must have dropped from his pocket in the struggle…" He lay back down, trembling violently at the memory.

"They took his _body_?" gasped Nightshade, "But what kind of rabbit takes the body of its victim away with him? Surely not for _food_… That sounds more like something the elil would do…"

"Anyway, I took to my heels and fled the scene, and tried to make my way back to town," Kenny went on, "Only I couldn't find the town; I couldn't find the road; I couldn't even find so much as a lamppost anywhere. Everything had…well it had _changed_ completely. I just kept going round in circles for two days. I didn't have any food and could only drink from puddles. Then, just last night, with my last glowstick having been used up, I thought I was a goner from hunger and exhaustion, when I spotted your fire through the trees. That's the last I remember…"

"You were a sight for sore eyes mate," Jamie said, explaining how they had found him, "I thought you'd never wake up. It's so good to see you here. Welcome back."

"Did you say that we are in the _future_?" Kenny asked, finally calming down enough to realise what Jamie had been telling him. His friend nodded, explaining how he too had made his way back home, only to find their hometown long gone, with the ruins of Newtown Churchyard as the only familiar landmark left to prove it had ever existed.

"Bloody hell, then that means my dear old dad is dead and good riddance to him," Kenny smirked, undoubtedly delighted to have finally escaped his father for good, "Say, is your dad here too Jamie? And Dr Johnson? Did you know that my dad and his goons had framed for murder after he disappeared…?" Jamie's face, initially delighted at having his best friend join him in this new world, fell, as he told Kenny about his encounter with Mr Robbins and everything he had told him had happened. Surprisingly enough, his friend only looked puzzled.

"You say it was _Johnson_ who betrayed your dad's party to some rogue rabbits? Could it have been the same ones Hallows and I encountered? Now that I recall, I think I _did_ see a man leading them…"

"You saw Johnson out there?" asked Jamie in surprise, remembering what Robbins had said and feeling a flame of hate light up inside him. If they had done the same to his father as they had done to Hallows… Only Kenny's next words nearly took his breath away in shock.

"…I didn't see his face but I heard one of those rabbits calling him by his name in the dark. But it wasn't Johnson; it was…hang on! I think it was… yes, it was the name of this guy you met, _Robbins_!" The group of five all gasped in shock. Robbins, who was supposedly risking his life out there to find and bring back the other survivors from his party? What was going on here?

"It appears we shall have to scratch our original plan," said Ash finally, breaking the silence, "Although we can't be sure if our friend Robbins betrayed us or was caught, we can no longer rely on him to return with our friends."

"So what is the plan, Lieutenant?" asked Kenny, slightly stressing the title, almost as if he felt stupid to address this giant rabbit as a figure of authority.

"I will take Sergeant Willow with me and will go and scout the area where you saw the Efrafans. My assumption is that you accidentally stumbled across their warren and that's why they attacked you. The plan is to follow your trail backwards to that place and conduct a full search. We can travel during the day and sleep in scrapes at night, taking turns standing watch for Wide Patrols. With a bit of luck, we might locate their warren and find out more about their strength and strategies. Also, we might be able to find out if any of our friends are still alive or not…"

"All right, this time I'll go with you…" Jamie said, only to have his request instantly rebuffed for a second time.

"I am sorry bucko, but this is strictly work for trained Owsla veterans only; without experience, you could give us away to the enemy. Besides, the fewer we are, the less likely it is to attract attention…"

"Excuse me, I am capable of handling the dangers out there…" Jamie said indignantly, not appreciating the fact of being denied the right of going after his father again. He half-expected the stern Ash to tell him off for speaking back to him like that; instead, the Owsla veteran calmly took him aside for a talk.

"I understand you still need to find your father but I really need you here now; I don't want Celandine and the others left on their own without someone trustworthy looking out for them. You are the only one I truly trust for that task." Jamie's anger instantly evaporated, feeling touched by Ash's final acceptance of him as a friend.

"Also, while I am away, I want you to make sure certain safety precautious are followed; no more signal fires, make sure everyone stays below ground at night, and always stay within sight of each other. I want nothing that may draw the Efrafans' attention should they come this way." Jamie nodded in understanding.

And so, ten minutes later, after Ash and Willow had had a quick morning silflay to build up their strength for a long trek, the new search party was ready for departure.

"We'll be fine," Ash said, nuzzling a worried Celandine goodbye, "You just watch yourselves until we get back. All right, come along Willow!" But Willow just stood his ground, staring back at his commanding officer.

"I am not going sir."

"What did you say?" asked Ash with a frown, turning to look at his orderly, "Sergeant, maybe you've misunderstood me? I have given you a direct order to come with me! Now look here old chap, Robbins is probably not coming back anymore; we can't leave our friends at the mercy of those Efrafans!"

"Our old friends are dead sir," sneered Willow, "And I am not throwing away my life away trying to find their bodies!" But Ash, clearly upset at being disobeyed by his own aid, wasn't about to let it slide so easily.

"Sergeant Willow, you are Owsla! Cowardice and disobedience are not tolerated among rabbits of our status! Now, would you rather I resort to some of Captain Holly's methods of discipline, to knock some sense into your thick skull…?" Before they could come to blows however, Nightshade stepped in.

"Never mind him Ash, I will go with you."

"Thanks old chap, but that won't be necessary," replied Ash, calmly dismissing his friend's offer, "I can still handle this, even if my impudent, cowardly deputy has gotten cold paws…"

"I happen to know some useful information about those Efrafans from the Threarah," insisted Nightshade, "How much do you know Ash?"

"Well, not very much," admitted the stern Owsla veteran, looking slightly uncomfortable, as he reconsidered taking Nightshade along. Although it would mean a bit of a risk on his part, given that his Council friend had no Owsla experience, the information the Threarah – who had supposedly located and then escaped from Efrafa as a young buck- had passed on to him, could indeed be useful.

Finally nodding in agreement, he said a last goodbye to his friends and, casting the withdrawn Willow a glare of absolute disgust, implying that his orderly would be in hot water when he returned, he turned and marched away, followed by Nightshade. Jamie and the others stood watching, until Ash and Nightshade had disappeared into the trees, heading towards Watership Down, before turning to return to the warren. Unbeknownst to any of them, a certain fluffy, white-furred rabbit was watching them from behind some nearby bushes.

"Fools…" muttered Cowslip under his breath, a sickly smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with insanity, "Nobody turns away from the shadow of my warren…Tonight's the final night for my guests… How sad…and sweet…" Little did he realise that his death trap was about to be exposed from right under his nose.

Meanwhile, the others had returned to the burrow, where Kenny was still resting. Willow had wandered off, wanting to be left alone, and the others had seen it best to just let him be. As the trio sat exchanging stories, Hannah suddenly appeared at the burrow entrance, riding on Snitter's shoulders, looking quite shaken.

Ever since meeting Jamie's canine companion, the mouse had surprisingly quickly learned how to train Snitter as a 'horse' and had made a habit of riding him all over the place whenever she wasn't with Jamie. This morning, with Jamie too preoccupied with Kenny, she had gone out on her longest ride yet, having the time of her life, aside from flying in her friend's glider, only to make a most shocking discovery and had come running to inform her friend.

"It's those two rabbits Hickory and Marigold," she told Jamie, "They want to speak with you…alone. They are waiting down by the river. I'll explain to you on the way…" Jamie frowned in suspicion; although he had grown to like the local couple, he found it odd that they would want to drag him out of the warren for a private conversation. Was something wrong?

Asking Celandine to keep Kenny company until he returned, he followed Hannah and Snitter outside, as she led him to a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes and ears of the unsuspecting Cowslip…

**Author's note:** If you recall from my first story, Stan Hallows was mentioned in the first chapters but was missing after Alan returned from the future. Also, Kenny's balloon is the very same one Alan and co founded at the foot of Watership Down and used to fly to Efrafa.Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	15. Chapter 15 A Horrible Truth!

Jamie followed Hannah out of the warren, to the place where Hickory and Marigold wanted to meet him in private, his mind reflecting on what he had just found out, and struggling to work out the riddle: Robbins' story which didn't seem to add up, Cowslip's peculiar behaviour, and Kenny's suspicious story of having seen Robbins out there, apparently _working_ _for the enemy_. How was all this linked together and, most importantly, where did it add up?

The secluded spot turned out to be some sort of hole in the middle of a dandelion field, amidst a few scattered stone ruins, which Jamie recognised as the remains of building foundations from his long-gone hometown, which had since been levelled by some unknown catastrophe. Although nothing recognisable remained, Jamie's instinct told him he was approximately where the town hall of Newtown had once been.

Staring down the hole, he saw an incline formed by many years of mudslides piling up at the bottom, leading down. Making his way down the hole, he found himself in, what appeared to have once been part of a basement, which had escaped destruction underground, having morphed into a cave of sorts. Shining his flashlight around the dimly lit chamber, Jamie saw it was littered with piles of junk, which he recognised as artefacts from his own time and after.

Corroded, broken and unrecognisable, these decayed and fossilised relics of the long-gone human era stood almost as if on display, like some crude museum the rabbits had set up. Intrigued, Jamie stepped inside, looking around curiously, vaguely recognising some of the 'exhibits': the head of a bronze statue that had once stood on the roundabout in the town square, a few ceramic garden gnomes from his old neighbourhood, and some bronze street and shop signs (including his own home street), among other familiar items. And sitting in the shadowy corner were Hickory and Marigold, expecting him.

"Oh, hallo guys," Jamie said pleasantly, before taking in their uneasiness as they slowly stepped into the light to greet him, "What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

"We have brought you here to warn you," whispered Marigold urgently, not returning the boy's greeting, her eyes darting nervously from Jamie to the entrance hole every few seconds, almost as if afraid that someone might be eavesdropping outside, "You are all in great danger here. You must leave the warren immediately!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Jamie, starting to feel rather alarmed by her frightened expression, his suspicions growing, "What do you mean, we are in danger here? Has this got anything with your father or Mr Robbins…?"

"Please, don't ask us any more questions," said Hickory, looking just as scared as his mate, yet slightly calmer, "Just promise us you'll leave the warren before sundown _tonight_…"

"Tonight?" said Jamie incredulously, "But I have a sick friend who can barely walk; it might take days before he is fit to travel…"

"You don't understand, he is plotting to have you all killed…!" blurted out Marigold before suddenly falling silent, realising she had said too much. However, the damage was done, as Jamie grabbed Hickory by the shoulders, so he was facing him.

"Tell me Hickory, what is going on here? _Who_ is plotting against us? And why?" But the pair was already beyond any further conversation, as Hickory shook his head sadly.

"Please, we can't say any more or he might harm our friends as punishment if he finds out," he said, "Just take our warning and go while you still can. All I ask is that you take us with you, take us away from here…" Jamie felt more perplexed than ever, realising that the rabbits were actually asking for his help, so they could escape. But from _what_? And why wouldn't they just get the guts and tell him about it? Could somebody be… _threatening_ them into keeping quiet?

"Well, all right…if you are sure…" he said, unable to formulate the appropriate response to their absurd request, "But why don't you just tell me what is all this about…?" But Hickory and Marigold had already turned and left, almost as if worried they'd be caught in the act by whomever – or _whatever_ – was causing them such distress. However, they had gotten the message across: the instant he had heard them mention someone plotting murder, Jamie's mind was on full alert. What should he do about it?

His first thought was to go find Cowslip at once and demand explanations. For an instant, he wished Ash was still here; the stern Owsla veteran could have been of great help in getting the truth – if there was one – out of that spooky rabbit. Then again, what exactly was he suppose to demand from Cowslip? An explanation for something he wasn't even sure what it was, or that Cowslip was behind it at all? Why couldn't Marigold have built up the courage to explain? A few more words might have solved the entire mystery by now… Nonetheless, now that he knew it had to be something serious, he would have to find the answer to this riddle…and fast.

Looking around, hoping that maybe the rabbits had deliberately led him here to find some secret clue they might have left behind for him, he saw nothing; just insignificant human junk, recognisable as nothing more than sad mementos of his long-gone home time. But no, not everything…

Upon closer inspection, he realised someone else had been searching this place recently; several of the heavier trinkets had been overturned and the imprints on the earthen floor testified to some bits of salvage that the previous visitor had taken away with him. The footprints of someone wearing shoes made it clear that another human had been here before him. Jamie's mind instantly turned to the dingy he had found on the edge of the brook back in the woods; so his father's party had indeed passed this way! Or did these belong to Mr Robbins, from when he had been 'hiding' here?

Then suddenly, he noticed something amidst the junk, which stood out. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary concrete block from the debris of the town; then again, why did it reflect the light of his flashlight like a mirror? Upon closer inspection, he realised it was some sort of sealed Plexiglas case, about the size of one of those old VHS players his father kept, lying half-buried in a cake of dirt formed by an ancient landslide. The acrylic box was diagonal, its edges held together by a brass frame, which had turned green with age, its Plexiglas sides clouded and cracked, but otherwise still intact.

His curiosity kicking in, Jamie, with Hannah's help, started clearing the earth around the box, and were soon able to lift it out of its embedment. By now Jamie had realised the box was hollow and the weight told him there was something in it. Examining the frame, he saw it had a lid, which was welded to the frame, sealing the container airtight. However, there was no lettering or marking of any kind visible, time having long since scrubbed every trace of paint or ink away, and the Plexiglas was too clouded to see the contents within.

Picking up the box, Jamie hoisted it over his shoulder and set off to return to the warren, where they could open it and examine its contents – whatever they might be – with the rest of their companions. They returned to find the others above ground, out on the meadow, enjoying the sunshine. Kenny was chatting excitedly with Celandine, his initial fear of the giant rabbits entirely forgotten, mostly thanks to the doe's warm motherly approach, much like a foster mother reassuring an orphaned kitten that had just come into her care. Willow was also with them, having sulked away his bad mood following the row with his commanding officer that morning.

"So what did those two weirdoes want?" asked the defiant Sandlefordian Sergeant of Owsla, as Jamie and Hannah approached, carrying their prize, "Still too shy to grace us with their company?" But his sarcasm was cut short as Jamie and Hannah recited to them everything Hickory and Marigold had told them, leaving nothing out, including their absurd, yet worrying warning.

"I don't know what to tell you guys," Jamie concluded, "Although I can't make heads or tails of this, I can't help but feel that we should take it seriously. We might be in for serious trouble otherwise…" Although Celandine and Kenny seemed to share Jamie's sentiments to some degree, Willow had a completely different opinion at the news.

"Give it a rest, young one," he said with a snort, "Someone plotting to _kill_ us? Frith of Inle, do open your eyes! The only ones we are sharing this warren with are a few idle-minded rabbits, which can't tell day from night, and a turnip-fat Chief, whose only skill is thinking up sweet welcoming speeches. There hasn't been a sniff of elil since we came; so how can there be any threat to us?"

Although feeling the insubordinate Sergeant of Owsla had a point, Jamie was still determined to investigate it further, as he turned to the sealed box he had found in the cave. Willow and the others stared at it curiously, "What in Frith's name is that?"

"I found it out in the ruins," he said, taking out his Swiss Army knife and opening the file blade, "Maybe, whatever is in it might tell us something about what happened here." Jamie and Kenny took turns with the knife to cut open the lid of the box like a food can. It wasn't easy; the lid was soldered to the frame, with tight bolts in each corner, making it a slow and difficult job getting it open. Finally, after an hour of hard work, the bolts were out and the soldering filed through, allowing them to creak the lid open.

As Jamie had figured, the box wasn't empty; both boys whistled aloud in amazement as they saw the box had been sealed completely airtight, causing the effects of time to literally cease inside, protecting the contents from decay all these years. Protected from sunlight exposure by a zinc lining set against the Plexiglas casing, an assortment of interesting items lay neatly packed in the box before them, amidst a bed of bubble foam padding.

Whoever had packed this time capsule apparently had been expecting it to be found by someone other than human, as the contents appeared to be a carefully-made selection of objects representing the long-forgotten world of the 21st century - or whatever century it had been - when humans had disappeared. Most of the artefacts Jamie and Kenny could recognise from their own time, while others were of some more advanced futuristic technology, unfamiliar to the two boys. The rabbits on the other hand, were staring blankly, unable to make anything out of these unfamiliar trinkets, other that they were man-made.

There was a plastic box containing a variety of everyday objects, including a hairpin, compact, lipstick, crucifix, a disposable razor, a comb, a pair of scissors, a wristwatch, a fountain pen, a pair of dice, a pouch of marbles, a pack of cards, a lighter, a globe key ring, a pack of cigarettes, and a pocket knife. Also, there was a pocket Bible, an envelope of assorted papers, some sort of curious electronic device, which resembled a miniature laptop computer, and even, curiously enough, a sealed bottle of some sort of alcoholic beverage. Finally, there was a cardboard cylinder containing a rolled-up flannel British flag.

While the rabbits and Hannah curiously passed some of the smaller items around in silent fascination, Jamie and Kenny started methodically examining the contents of the case for any useful information. The Bible told them nothing; just an ordinary copy of the Old and New Testaments, with a stamp on the front page indicating it had come from Newtown Parish Church. The boys then turned to the envelope of papers; a bundle of newspaper clippings and leaflets of some unknown description fell out onto their laps. Kenny picked up the leaflet and read aloud:

**TIME CAPSULE MAKERS CLUB**

THE END OF THE WORLD IS NEAR;

BUT YOU CAN STILL LEAVE YOUR MARK BEHIND,

PRESERVE YOUR LEGACY

BUILD YOUR OWN TIME CAPSULE!

RESERVE BURIAL SITE NOW IN NEWTOWN COMMON SQUARE

ORDER YOUR CONTAINER ONLINE AT:

W-WWW,TIMECAPSULEMAKERS,UK

CAN BE DELIVERED, SEALED AND COLLECTED BY COURIER

NO DANGEROUS GOODS PERMITTED

ALL MAJOR CREDIT CARDS ACCEPTED

Turning the leaflet over, they saw a catalogue with illustrations of the available sizes and materials for the time capsules: junior-sized, default-sized, king-sized, and deluxe-sized, made of Plexiglas, stainless steel, aluminium, or even marble. Accompanying the leaflet was a manifest of the capsule's contents, complete with a list of the people who had contributed to its making, either financially or by donating artefacts to be stored in it, many of which they recognised as their old classmates from school.

"Cool," Kenny said, comparing the illustration of the recovered time capsule on the leaflet to its counterpart lying open at their feet. This organisation had undoubtedly made a fortune back then, designing these time capsules; but they had been worth the money, judging by the proof before them. The time capsule, battered and dirty as it was, had withstood the passage of time very well indeed, protecting all its contents from decay for them to find. This in turn shifted the boys' attention to an interesting question: maybe there was something in here that could tell them what had happened to their world?

The answer to that question was waiting for them on the newspaper clipping, dating sometime back in 2025. Both Jamie and Kenny read the chilling headlines of the _Chronicle_ in unison:

DOOMSDAY JUST AROUND THE CORNER!

AUTHORITIES ANNOUNCE HUMANITY HAS ONLY TWO YEARS LEFT

Then followed a long article of astronomers discovering two rogue planets, Apocalypse and Pandora, enroot to strike the Earth, which would unleash a mass extinction level event in the process. Jamie and Kenny looked at each other grimly. So this was what had happened to their world; an asteroid impact – which Jamie had often regarded as the stuff of popular science fiction – had wiped out the world they had known long ago. They were apparently the last two surviving members of the human race, now long extinct, having escaped their species destruction by 'jumping' forward in time from 2013 to this unknown future date. However, there was still no explanation as to where their rabbit friends had come from. They turned to the electronic device.

This proved to be the most interesting find of all; the size of a present-day mobile phone, the contraption opened up like a pocketbook, divided into two sections: a miniature touch-screen and some sort of crystalline panel, which Jamie recognised as a solar charger. Facing the panel towards the sun, he started playing with the keypad, trying to get the device to work.

Just as Kenny was arguing to his friend to stop wasting his time, as there was no way for that device to still work after all these years, the screen suddenly flickered back to life, as the solar panel recharged its dead battery. Below a high-definition, three-dimensional graphic model of the globe encased in some sort of web formed by satellites, was a miniature slideshow of pictures of a futuristic England, mostly unchanged, yet with several notable differences, including some new models of completely non-pollutant motor vehicles, new ladies' fashion, new computer technology, among other little things, indicating the passage of time. Miniature letters spelled the words:

C.R.P.

COMMUNICATIONS AND REFERENCE PAGER

APPLE MODEL 3000

DIRECT W-NET ACCESS

INITIATING ALL SERVICES

The device looked to Jamie like a futuristic portable computer, as he studied the application icons that appeared on the screen: _W-Net Explorer, Skype 3-D, Sensor Scanner, E-Yearbook Search, Multi-Calendar, Sat-Net Atlas_, among other features. With the rabbits staring in stunned silence at the alien contraption, the boys continued experimenting, trying to figure out how to work it.

After figuring out how to properly use the pager (by simply scrolling across the screen with a pen-like rod stored in a tiny side compartment, Jamie tried the _W-Net Explorer_ application, a descendant of _Internet Explorer_ from his own time. Unfortunately, the screen only gave him another graphic image of the satellite-web-engulfed-globe, this time in greyscale, with a warning that the server was down. What did he expect? Google to still be functioning when the entire human civilisation has ceased to exist? Instead, he tried the yearbook feature.

This time, they really hit the jackpot, as the electronic yearbook stored in the pager's memory turned out to be a mass database of information, including everything from its earlier versions, a far richer reference source than its annually printed counterparts Jamie and Kenny knew from their home time. This one appeared to be the latest – and final edition -, published in 2027, the year of the Doomsday mentioned in the newspaper clipping, meaning they had the whole works available.

Hitting the application icon, the screen brought up a search-engine-or-index-browse option. Kenny took the first turn and typed his name in the _Newbury District Persons List_. A page, which resembled a police report, bearing his passport photo on the edge, appeared, spelling the words:

'_**Kenneth Shelton**__ (b. August 5__th__ 1999-d. January 2__nd__ 2013): Born in Newtown Common, Berkshire. Mysteriously disappeared outside his hometown while helping his abusive father Tom Shelton (1977-2013) on an errand. Presumably murdered by his father Thomas, who was revealed to be a facilitator for the infamous Red Hand Brotherhood. Shelton Sr. was apprehended following the collapse of the faction in early 2013, charged with his son's disappearance, as well as several other unsolved homicides, including Dr Johnson's housekeeper Emily Hanson, the professor's brother-in-law Miles Millard, and his flight club deputy Stan Hallows, but was murdered in police custody before he could stand trial. His son's body was never recovered for burial.' _

To everyone's surprise, Kenny didn't seem the least upset by the news of his father's death; instead, the memories of the years of abuse he had been forced to endure, as well as the failed murder attempt, had the youngest Shelton on the verge of celebration as he chuckled in satisfaction and joy, "Ha! He who laughs last laughs longest of all! You hear me, Dad?" he sneered, making a rude hand gesture towards the sky, "You thought you could set your goons on me and get away with it? Well, I am alive and free, while you are dead and forgotten, and betrayed by your own 'friends' nonetheless! What a fitting end for a loser like you!"

While Kenny was celebrating his father's demise by dancing a jig, Jamie took his own turn with the pager. His hands trembling with anticipation, he typed in (or rather dictated orally to the device) his family name. The search brought up another file with a picture, which resembled a postcard, on the heading. Although taken years after their disappearance, Jamie recognised his old neighbourhood, sometime in the 2020's.

It was a photograph of a pub, which the boy couldn't remember ever seeing in that part of town before. Upon closer inspection of the property, Jamie suddenly gasped in surprise as he recognised a very familiar place he had known all his life.

"By Jove, that's _my house_! Or _was_," he said, feeling his stomach bottom out, as he saw what had become of his family home. Scrolling down the page, he read a heart-wrenching inscription typed beneath:

PUB AND BOARDING HOUSE _RESOLUTION_

NEWTOWN COMMON, BERKSHIRE

'_Established in 2014 by retired Colonel Mike McEwen in dedication to the memory of his son James, grandson Jamie and daughter-in-law Josie, who were killed during the Red Hand Brotherhood's reign of terror in England in 2013.'_

Although touched to see his grandfather had made sure he and his father were not forgotten, Jamie was suddenly filled with a renewed feeling of worry. What had become of his mother? According to this, their house had been made into a pub by old Mike to preserve their memories – the _entire_ family's. So that would only put his mother… With sickening horror, Jamie realised he was now a complete orphan; first his father and now his mother was also dead. Although he had known that from the moment he had realised he was stuck in the far future, to actually read about it on this pager felt like a stabbing blow in the heart, taking away any hope he had left.

Losing it, Jamie turned and fled; hurrying past his stunned friends, he bolted from the warren, not knowing where he was going or caring. His morale had just been shattered at the realisation of the harsh reality; he was all alone, stuck in an unfamiliar world forever, with little or no prospect of a future. Even if he could somehow find a way back to his own time, there was nothing left for him there anymore, other than a miserable life in an orphanage most likely.

Fighting the urge to be sick, he sunk to the ground at the foot of a tree, burying his head between his knees in misery. He didn't know how long he sat there before he felt a familiar tiny hand tugging at his sleeve. Hannah had followed him, accompanied by Snitter, to comfort him. Although Jamie was in no mood to talk, he managed to shoot his mouse friend a weak smile for her concern, as he patted her mildly over the head.

"I've lost everything Hannah," he finally said, "My parents, my home, everything…gone…" For an instant, he wanted to curse this strange world that had done all this to him but refrained from doing so s Hannah's piercing gaze met his own.

"Jamie, I understand how you must be feeling; I myself had to go through this pain when my parents and siblings died," she said, "It was only thanks to Rosebud's encouragement that I was able to move on. Now, I am telling _you_. However bad you must feel, you have to pull yourself together quickly. Your misery isn't going to restore your life to what it was; you have me – have us – and we are your new family now. I for one, no matter what happens, will never turn you away. That's why I decided to go with you back at Thinial." Jamie felt touched.

"Thank you Hannah. You truly are the best, you know that?" he said, picking up the mouse for a cuddle. Although he still felt the burning pain of loss in his chest, her words had restored his confidence enough for him to think straight - and to realise something else. According to that record, his entire family had been declared _murdered_ by that Red Hand Brotherhood – the same terrorist faction Mr Robbins had said Dr Johnson was associated with. Although it made some sense that the authorities would _mistakenly_ assume Red Hand had been responsible for his and his father's disappearances, like it had happened with Kenny, how was his mother involved as well? What was the connection between his family and Red Hand?

This new mystery playing about in his mind, he didn't notice the rest of his friends appear, Celandine helping a staggering Kenny limp along. They gathered around him, not daring to utter a word, weary of upsetting him even more. But Jamie paid them no heed as he turned his attention back to the pager still clutched in his hand and hurryingly typed in Robbins' name in the search engine of the e-yearbook, under _Famous Historical Figures Biographies Archive_. The time had come to find out what that man had been hiding from them. The result made the entire group gasp in shock, as the terrible truth unfolded before their eyes in writing:

'_**Russell Ronald Robbins**__ (b. 1__st__ September 1978-d. 28__th__ December 2012): Born __**Ronald Fields**__ in Cardiff, Wales, changed identity circa 2008. Abandoned by his parents at the age of two, Fields was raised at St Mary's orphanage in London. Graduated from Cambridge in 2004 with a Master in Law. Served in the British Marines during the Third World War (2009-2011) and falsely declared dead in action after going missing in China in 2010, before transferring to the Bureau Secret Service under a different name and appearance. Disappeared and presumed dead in December 2012. During the Petrograd trial in 2013, recovered evidence revealed he was working as a spy for the Red Hand Brotherhood, first in the Armed Forces and then the Ministry of Defence, embezzling state funds to finance the faction's activities in England. He has since been identified as the primary suspect in over fifty unsolved homicides, including Mary and Lucy Johnson, Dr Derek Shaw, and Major James McEwen, for which Dr Alan Johnson had originally been wrongly suspected of, after being framed by Red Hand. He was rumoured to have had a younger sister who passed away in 2016...' _

Jamie feltas if he had been hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer. So this was the truth; Johnson was never the traitor, but _Robbins_! Because he, the gullible 13-year-old boy, had been stupid enough to take the man's word without question, he had played right into his hands and let that backstabber rob him of his glider. A feeling of shame swept over him as he sunk back, the pieces finally falling into place: Johnson was being hunted down by the Red Hand Brotherhood; Robbins had been following him, probably to kill him; only when he was about to make his move, he had found himself stuck in this future world with his intended victim; Jamie's father had gone looking for Johnson and ended up joining them.

At some point or another, Robbins must have been discovered; finally deciding to break his cover, the traitor had turned on his companions; fleeing, he had joined up with those savage Efrafans, enlisting them as his new muscle. Jamie shuddered, remembering what Kenny had said had happened to Stan Hallows; perhaps his father and Johnson has suffered the same fate? Maybe it was already too late? And what about Ash and Nightshade? There was no telling what they might do to them if they caught them; and they didn't even know that Robbins was dangerous…

Turning to his friends, he saw them all wearing expressions of utmost shock and outrage, after hearing the boys read that profile aloud, realising that they had been tricked. And undoubtedly, their only concern at this moment matched that of Jamie's: their friends still out there.

"The others are in danger! We have to find them and bring them back fast!"

Turning back to the pager, he opened up the atlas feature, browsing through the grids, trying to pinpoint their location. Unfortunately, the application was only a direct-data-package software installed in the page's memory, rather than regularly updated, satellite-transmitted imagery, which meant it was seriously out of date after all these centuries, making it difficult to identify locations due to the changed landscape. As Jamie slowly dragged the locator arrow across a grid in the southeast, Hannah suddenly uttered a gasp.

"I know that place!" she said, pointing at an ancient landmark, which both Jamie and Kenny also knew from their own time. Hannah had recognised the historic site of Stonehenge.

"How do _you_ know about Stonehenge, Hannah?" asked Jamie in surprise, astonished by his mouse friend knowing one of the most famous landmarks of the long-forgotten human world, given how she didn't seem to have ever ventured very far from Thinial all her life.

"Stonehenge?" she asked in confusion, "That's _Redstone warren_, the place Captain Broom used to tell Rosebud and me all about in his stories. His former Chief from Sandleford had visited it when exploring the Dark Territory seasons ago." Jamie's mind flashed back to when Captain Broom had told him the story of General Woundwort capturing the Threarah at Redstone long ago, followed by his attack on Sandleford by unleashing that Myxomatosis plague – however he had done it – forcing the infected Flyairth and Rosebud to quarantine themselves at the deserted Thinial. This other warren up at Stonehenge, Redstone, although most likely deserted following the siege, might be worth checking out later on. But not now.

Zooming in over an aerial image of his no-longer-existing hometown, Jamie marked it as their starting point; then, as he scanned the hills to the south, trying to pinpoint where Kenny had said he had seen the Efrafans, he saw something strange, on the top of Watership Down, where he and Kenny would often ride their bicycles back in their home time. Zooming in, he saw it was a strange structure of some description, which resembled the entrance to some underground compound in the bowels of the hill, surrounded by a high-security fence circling the Down at the foot of the hill, like a military facility. Atop the massive concrete slab covering the entrance hanger, he could see a single word painted in large letters: HAB.

_Strange_, he thought in disapproval, seeing how the once pristine Down had been developed in that future age, _I thought that place had been declared a natural reserve after Mr Adams' appeal for Sandleford Park fell through and was developed._ Conjuring up an info icon, he read the map details:

**HAB-01**

PROPERTY OF THE BRITISH CROWN

SITE UNDER MILITARY JURISTICTION

DETAILS CLASSIFIED

RESTRICTED AREA

Although vague information, Jamie couldn't help but have a strange feeling about that place. Then, he noticed there was also a bookmark and video postscript attached to the reference, apparently left by the previous owner. Opening up the digital attachment, he activated the miniature video. The rabbits momentarily jumped back in surprise as the face of some unknown person appeared on the screen, reciting his message:

"_My name is of no consequence; the important thing you should know is, the national lottery has been finalised: the lucky 2,200 selected have been evacuated to the underground sanctuary, to wait out the upcoming storm. The rest of us still alive out here have no choice but to take cover in the ruins of our homes, to pray and prepare for the inevitable. Many have decided to make a run for it and try and make it to the HAB before it goes into lockdown. As for me, once I have finished this message, I will seal this time capsule and bury it in the town park with the others. Then, I will go home to join my wife and children for our last few hours of life until Pandora gets to us. The date is May 26__th__ 2029."_

Jamie and his friends stared at each other with sad expressions; those had undoubtedly been the words of a dying man – someone the boys might have once known as a child – who had left this box of trinkets behind for them to find. And, unknowingly, he had also left them a most useful lead: this HAB place sounded like the ideal place Johnson and his father would have sought shelter from the Efrafans. In contrast to the towns and cities above ground, which had all been annihilated in the catastrophe, this underground habitat could still be there and still be usable. Although there was telling what it might look like after all these years, or if Jamie's father had found it at all, it seemed the best place as any to look for him.

Glancing at the sun, Jamie saw it was nearly nightfall. Deciding it would be best to wait until tomorrow morning before setting off, so they would be rested and have a whole day to travel safely, they returned to the warren to get some shuteye. Unfortunately, although having figured out a big part of the truth, they still remained oblivious of Cowslip's plans for them – the danger Hickory and Marigold had been so desperately been trying to warn them before it was too late.

Later that night, as the group lay sleeping together in the deserted main chamber, from where they could keep watch for any trouble showing up in the middle of the night, as per Ash's instructions. By choosing not to sleep in the main burrows however, none of them had noticed the warren was strangely deserted tonight. And the reason was that Cowslip was preparing for another of his custodians' visit.

Not too far away, in the dead of night, the madrabbit of a Chief was leading his people to a temporary safe haven, while their custodians went to 'clean up' after them, leaving those chosen for sacrifice – in his case, Jamie and his companions – to their doom. This 'ritual', which Cowslip and his forefathers had led for generations, normally went along smoothly, with the warren's mystic keeping any minds that sprang to alertness idle. But with Silverweed gone, tonight Cowslip was having a hell of a hard time preserving order, with the main problem being Hickory and Marigold.

The pair was muttering furiously to each other as their Chief led them towards the ruins of Newtown Churchyard – their refuge – to wait out the natives' visitation to their livestock enclosure of a warren. Despite their bold attempt to warn their visitor, Jamie hadn't bought the hint; now the boy and his friends would soon be taken unawares by the natives, while they would go back to being the idle, disposable assets of Marigold's insane father, awaiting their own turn to die.

Their fellow rabbits, although far more badly influenced after a lifetime of mind control, and still retaining their trance, were also starting to show signs of awareness…and fear, much to Cowslip's displeasure. Since freed from Silverweed's control, Hickory and Marigold had taken the initiative of trying to get as many of their friends as they could to join them in a revolt against Cowslip; unfortunately, their fear of banishment, which - solidified by Cowslip's threats and warnings - would mean certain death by starvation or elil out in the wilderness – was proving too difficult to overcome. But Marigold's sense of shame for the dirty scheme her father was forcing her, her mate, and their friends, to participate in felt even worse.

"Frith of Inle, we can't go along with this! What we are doing is _murder_! We must do something Hickory!" the doe protested, keeping her voice to a hushed whisper, in case her father was listening, "We can't just leave them!"

"But _what_ can we do Marigold?" asked Hickory incredulously, although he too looked utterly depressed at their failure to warn Jamie in time, "That young ithe will be dead soon - if he isn't already - and Cowslip is watching our every move. Oh, we should have listened to Strawberry and Nildrohein and left with them when we had the chance…" Unfortunately, Cowslip who had ears like a sonar, heard that last remark and was upon them in the blink of an eye.

"What was that?" he asked in a soft, but dangerous voice, "What have I told you about saying those traitors' names?" Casting a quick glance at the others, to make sure nobody was eavesdropping and could see him threatening his daughter and her mate, he whispered in a deadly voice, "You better hope that nothing goes wrong. I am warning you, if that young ithe escapes because of your blabbering mouth, you will be taking his place instead, both of you!" Marigold felt the blood drain from her face, as her father smirked evilly at her fear.

"Yes, I know how you tried to warn that little fool and those hlessil today," he sneered, "What a pity you didn't have the courage to tell him when you had the chance. Your waste of a sister had more backbone than you. But no mind, Robbins and the General will soon put the traitor and her loser of a mate in their proper place, just as I will you…" That broke the camel's back and Marigold, filled with more rage and hate she had ever known, sprang at her father, cuffing him across the nose.

"Don't you talk about Nildrohein and Strawberry like that, you foul creature! At least they had the courage to take their chances and escape this tharn life you keep us enslaved in!" She froze, realising what she had just done, frightened and satisfied with herself at the same time. Cowslip also froze in a moment of surprise, before he exploded in temper fit to match that of a King Kong being deprived of his bride, and rounded on his daughter.

"Strike your own father will you, you ungrateful little chippie?!" he roared, his face a murderous mask of rage, "So help me, I'll rip the whiskers out of your face!" Before he could strike her back however, Cowslip found himself cuffed again, this time by Hickory, who, seeing his mate about to be hurt, had reached his own breaking point and intervened. Although by no means a strong rabbit, the cuff found Cowslip square in the most sensitive spot possible: his eye. With a howl of pain, the pudgy rabbit crumpled to the ground.

"Touch her again and I'll kill you myself!"

Taking advantage of Cowslip's momentarily incapacitation, Marigold turned to the rest of their fellow rabbits, which were staring at her and Hickory with expressions of awe and confusion. The moment had come for her to put an end to this.

"Friends, the time has come for us to abandon this farce of a life; Cowslip has kept us enslaved under his dark rule long enough. There will be no more sacrifices among us; no more innocent blood wasted on my father's false cause. My sister and Strawberry made the bold decision to leave with that hlessi Hazel and his friends; only then, we made the mistake of turning down the offer of joining them to freedom. Young Jamie and his friends are our last chance; our last chance for freedom and relearning the ways of our kind, which Greenweed had forsaken in favour of this wretched life." Despite their mutual desire to be free, Cowslip's rabbits were still hesitant with uncertainty.

"But where would we go…?"

"Trust an _ithe_ to lead us to safety…?"

"Cowslip warned us about that other savage warren that is after those hlessil…!"

"We'd all starve or fall prey to the elil out there…!"

"If we are going to have a chance to start a new life, it must be far away from this wretched place," Marigold went on, "We have to leave the warren…tonight." However, nobody noticed Cowslip, bruised and humiliated, slip away, intent on seeing his plan fulfilled, one way or another…

Meanwhile, back at the warren, Kenny had woken up and was making his way outside, to use the bathroom. Using his friend's borrowed flashlight, he found a secluded spot behind some trees, to do his business, using some fig tree leaves as toilet paper. Just as he was about to do up his baggy trousers, muttering how inconvenient the toilet facilities were round here, he heard voices in the distance. Listening, he could vaguely recognise the voices of Cowslip and those rabbits that had wanted to talk to Jamie that afternoon. Suspicious of what could they be doing outside in the middle of the night, he crept closer to investigate.

Coming to the edge of the graveyard, he saw Cowslip and all his rabbits gathered, seemingly waiting for something. Cowslip seemed to be having an argument with Hickory and Marigold. Curiosity overpowering, Kenny dimmed his flashlight and, crawling on his stomach to avoid being seen, he took cover behind a nearby tombstone (his father's), to eavesdrop on the conversation. He didn't have to listen in for long, before he overheard Cowslip threaten the pair for trying to warn them about the insane Chief's plot to have them killed…_tonight_!

That was all Kenny had to hear and he noiselessly crawled away. Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he got to his feet and hurried to return to the warren, to warn the others. From his past experiences with his father, he knew better than to try and interfere; the important thing was to alert his friends of what was going on right away. Not too far away, a hunting party of giant humanoids were also on their way to the warren, lured there by Cowslip, who had resorted to using himself as bait for the hunters' dogs to follow by scent, leading them to their prize ahead of schedule…

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay, but I have been very busy with my new job, as well as suffering from writer's block, and had to rewrite this chapter several times before getting it right. Originally, the time capsule Jamie and co found contained all the information in _printed form_ in books. However, I figured that by the year 2027, printed books would probably be obsolete and so, instead had it all in electronic form on the futuristic pager/laptop. For those of you that are wondering, the word W-Net stands for Wireless Internet or Wireless World Wide Web (W-WWW). This is an imaginary futuristic Internet, which hosts all its servers onboard hundreds of solar-powered stationary satellites transmitting from orbit, rather than a ground-based network sharing data via telephone lines. Theoretically, such an elaborate system would still be functioning after 750 years, don't you think? Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	16. Chapter 16 Picking up the Trail Again

Jamie was struggling to make himself comfortable on the earthen floor of the Hall of Bones, trying to get some sleep. But he just couldn't; the memory of reading about his mother's death on that reference device kept playing itself in his mind over and over again. It was just too much for him to accept that the life he had once known was over; even if he could somehow find a way back to his own time, it would never be the same again. The best-case scenario he could hope for now was that Ash would find his father out there – if it wasn't already too late – and then they might be able to put things on a sounder footing…somehow.

And then there was the mystery with Hickory and Marigold; according to their peculiar warning, something was coming for them…_tonight_. So far, nothing had happened, other than the warren being strangely silent, and Jamie was beginning to think that perhaps Willow's assumption that there was no cause for alarm had been correct.

He was just about to doze off again, when he heard the sound of footsteps and saw Kenny appear at the entrance, looking alarmed and out of breath. Before Jamie could even inquire where he had been, his friend was bellowing in a panicked voice, "EVERYBODY UP! WE'RE IN DEEP CRAP!" Celandine, Willow and Hannah nearly went through the roof in alarm as Kenny's shouting woke them.

"By the Black Rabbit of Inle!" snapped Willow incredulously, "What do you mean by waking us up like that in the middle of the night, you young duffer? What kind of a stupid joke is this supposed to be…?" But Jamie, already aroused with suspicion from Hickory and Marigold's warning earlier that evening, was on his feet instantly, "What is it?"

"I just saw Cowslip and his rabbits hiding up by the graveyard; I overheard that fat oaf saying someone – or something – is on its way here to get us _right now_!" he said, reciting everything he had overheard, "We have to get the hell out of here!"

"Someone is coming after us?" gasped Celandine in alarm, "Then Hickory and Marigold were right! Cowslip _has_ been plotting against us from the start!" She shot Willow a reproachful glare for taking the warning so lightly and persuading them to pay it no heed. It was only by a complete stroke of luck that they had found out, and just in the nick of time…

In an instant, the boys were hastily gathering up their meagre belongings, preparing for departure; Jamie's survival kit from the glider, as well as the time capsule container, which would serve as Kenny's kit, containing a supply of food rations for a new, lengthy journey on foot. A length of tough nylon rope Jamie had salvaged from the dingy would be used to improvise straps, so Ken could carry the box comfortably on his back. The only thing that was discarded was the glider's distress transmitter, which didn't work anymore, after its battery had run out.

Five minutes later, equipment in hand, both rabbits and humans were ready to hit the road again. But no sooner had they climbed out the exit run and into the field, when they run into non other than Hickory and Marigold, which came running towards the warren, looking just as alarmed as Kenny had been; except, that they also wore expressions of utmost shame and remorse. Behind them, were the rest of Cowslip's rabbits following in tow, all of them having suddenly snapped out of their trance.

"What are you doing here?" snapped Willow furiously, "You miserable wretches think you could run and hide like cowards, leaving us to be caught in a death trap unawares? Well, think again; we just happen to have more ears than you've got guts! Now, get out of our way before I thrash the lot of you to ribbons…!"

"So you found out then?" asked Hickory, ignoring the threat, realising their attempted tip-off earlier that day had paid off after all. The group however, furious that these rabbits – _all_ of them for that matter - had been part of Cowslip and Robbins' plot against them from the start, gave them disgusted looks.

"Yes, so why don't you go back to do more of your insane father's dirty work?" retorted Hannah, shaking her tiny fist at them in fury at the apparent 'betrayal', "We're leaving!"

"Please," begged Marigold, who was in tears of shame, as well as sporting the bruise Cowslip had given her, "We want no more of this! We've turned against my father – all of us - and driven him out. We have had enough of this tharn life. Please, you've got to listen to us…" Willow seemed about to yell at the distraught doe to get out of the way before he cuffed her across the face, but Jamie, who had noticed the bruise on Marigold's eye, realised she had finally found her courage and was hoping for a chance to redeem herself.

"It's all right, you can come with us; _all_ of you." the boy said, remembering how the two rabbits had begged him to take them and their friends with him, away from this place. Despite feeling rather distrustful himself, he couldn't help but feel that it had been a hard decision for them to stand up to Cowslip on their own accord – and persuade all of their friends to join them as well - and that it would be wrong to turn them away now.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" cried Marigold and Hickory in unison, nuzzling Jamie in gratitude. Behind them, the boy was touched to see a dozen more overjoyed faces, as Cowslip's rabbits – now no longer slaves of this warren - realised they were finally free of this farce of a life. Cowslip's lies and threats had finally caught up with him; even if he built up the courage to come back and face them, he'd only find an empty warren, leaving him with nothing…or so they thought.

"Come on then. Let's go…" Jamie said, assuming leadership of his newly enlarged group; with Ash still absent, he was officially the leader now. Hickory and Marigold would unquestionably be in charge of their friends, but they would follow him as their new leader. But before he could announce their departure however, trouble finally struck.

"What the hell…?"

Staring in the direction of the surrounding woodland, they suddenly saw, with horror, a small army of what, Jamie thought were gigantic, ape-like creatures, emerge from the trees, approaching the warren in attack. Then he realised they weren't apes, but _men_! Gigantic, ferocious and primitive-looking human beings, who had reverted back to Stone-age savagery over the centuries, were closing in like a pack of hungry hyenas, to help themselves to the buffet – _them_! In the background, he caught a glimpse of a smirking Cowslip, who had lured the savaged here, fleeing, leaving them to their fate.

The two boys stood petrified as they cast their first glance at their savage descendants, whose presence here explained why humans where not popular in this future age and why their intelligence and abilities of speech made them so special to their rabbit friends. Humanity and the animal kingdom had somehow swapped sides; humans had become unintelligent, brutal beasts – ironically, not unlike their civilised counterpart, only in an animalistic way – while rabbits and other creatures had become intelligent, allowing them to form their own civilised society, complete with language, religion, and ideology.

Before they knew what was happening, the savage humanoids were upon them; several giant bloodhounds were unleashed, going in a murderous frenzy for the rabbits. Some of them panicked and tried to run, only to be caught by the hounds within seconds, which proceeded to rip them to pieces before going for more. A few that managed to outrun the hounds were instead intercepted by their savage masters and their spears. Gripping their skewered and screaming victims on the end of their sharp spearheads, the hunters pinned them to the ground, before crushing their skulls with stones.

Jamie watched in horror as Willow was set upon by one of the hounds, which seized him in its razor-sharp jaws, shaking him around like a bloody rag. The Owsla Sergeant, as per his training instincts, managed to claw his attacker in the eye, causing the dog to let go of him; but his injuries were too severe for him to run for it. Before anyone could do anything to help him, the dog was upon him again, followed by its humanoid master, who ended the unfortunate rabbit's life by driving his spear through Willow's chest. The last thought before death overcame him, was why had he been so stupid as to stay here, rather than join his master out there as he had been ordered to…

In an instant, the meadow was awash with blood and mangled rabbit bodies. Snapping out of the shock of the massacre unfolding before his eyes, Jamie shouted, "Everybody back below ground! Take cover!" Some of the rabbits that hadn't completely lost it in their panic – including Hickory and Marigold – bolted back down into the Hall of Bones, followed by Celandine, Hannah and Kenny. Jamie however, realising there was no way to get everyone below ground in time – at least not without the majority being slaughtered before they got there – he reached into his kit, looking for something he could use as a weapon - anything to keep the enemy at bay for a while longer…

As far as he could see, the only thing he had, remotely capable of inflicting any injury, was his knife; but what good was the tiny blade of a Swiss Army pocketknife against an army of giant humanoids, each of which was over eight feet tall and at least 500lbs worth of weight and muscle? Why, he might as well use a slingshot! Unless…

Reaching into his kit again, he took out the flare, which had so far been worthless to him; now, it just might prove to be a lifesaver for him and his friends. Hastily reading the instructions on the side, he popped off the safety cap and pulled the firing string, aiming the tube horizontally – instead of the usual upright – with both hands. For an instant, nothing happened…

"Come on, come on…!" he hissed, thinking the flare might be a dud, in which case would spell out their doom; but before the words had even left his lips, the tinfoil head of the tube burst and the red flare shot out, like a bullet from a gun. The deadly ball of fire found its mark straight down the throat of the nearest mutant, where it burst into a blinding, red-hot star, engulfing the hunter, as well as several others nearest to him. Jamie watched in silent horror as the mutant's head was instantly vaporized, the rest of his body following immediately thereafter, while several other humanoids engulfed in flames, run around, howling in agony.

The rest of the humanoid pack was stunned for a moment at the sight of this mysterious and lethal phenomenon, giving the remaining rabbits their chance to make it to the safety of the warren. Fighting the urge to be sick at the sight of his first mass homicide, Jamie saw, to his utmost dismay, that it hadn't stopped them; the remaining savages quickly regrouped and, like a swarm of vermin, came in for the kill. And there was nothing left to fend them off now…except for Snitter.

"Wh…? Snitter, no, come back!"

Before his young master could restrain him by his collar, the fearless canine, snarling ferociously, had leapt in the direction of the murderous pack in a counter attack. In an instant the dog was caught in a struggle with one of the hounds; but its savage descendants – ferocious beasts accustomed to daily hunting and killing – were too much for the small canine. It barely managed to inflict some mild bites before the killer hounds overpowered him. Snitter's howls of agony filled the night air.

Unable to bear watching his faithful dog being mauled to death, and unable to help, Jamie barely managed to make it inside, before the savages reached the burrow opening. Several spears and stones flew down the run at them, but the savages - including their hounds - couldn't follow any further, due to their gigantic size.

In the Hall of Bones, Jamie and his group backed away from the entrance, breathing a sigh of relief as they realised the savages couldn't reach them now. But their relief was short-lived however, as they realised that they were trapped; during the past couple of days they had been here, Jamie and his friends had taken their time to a get a good look at the warren and knew there were no other way out other than the front entrance, now barred by a murderous mob of humanoids.

The boy sank to his knees, about to be sick; not just from the shock of the horrible savagery he had just witnessed – and technically participated in - for the first time in his life, but from the loss of Snitter. His last tie with his old home was gone; although he still had Kenny, Snitter had always been regarded as another member of the family. An overwhelming sense of loneliness overcame him…

Meanwhile, the rabbits were freaking out; more than half of them had just been slaughtered outside, and the rest seemed very likely to follow shortly. Sure enough, they were all suddenly chilled to the bones as they heard Cowslip's insane voice echoing from the depths of the warren, like that of a ghost's, magnified throughout the chamber by some acoustic effect, taunting them.

"_You see my friends? Nobody turns away from me so easily; as I've always warned you, the disobedient ones are always the first to go. Maybe you might want to use what little time you have left to live, to punish the ithe and his hlessil friends who encouraged you to throw your lives away for nothing! Do send my regards to the Black Rabbit of Inle! Farewell!" _With an insane laugh, the mad rabbit was gone.

Some of the rabbits started pleading aloud, begging Cowslip not to leave them at the mercy of the natives but there was no reply. Others started cursing Jamie, blaming him for their predicament, yet luckily refrained from attacking him directly, as they all sat fearfully, listening to the horrific sounds of the humanoids still prowling outside, waiting for them to come out. It was only then, almost as if encouraged from his anger for what that miserable rabbit had done to his dog, as well as to Willow, that Jamie realised something very important.

_Sound waves can't travel through solid ground like that_, he thought, _There has to be another opening from somewhere down there…_ Motioning to Kenny and Hannah to follow him, he led the way down into the burrows, trying to pinpoint the voice's place of origin. They soon came to the semi-filled up entrance to a small burrow in the heart of the warren, which Jamie remembered Cowslip telling them was never used because it was too cold and damp; he too, could remember a cool, refreshing breeze coming from in there, which kept the warren well ventilated at all times. Could it be some secret mouse hole Cowslip used to move in and out undetected, to do his dirty work unnoticed?

Squeezing into the narrow burrow, they saw, in contrast to the rest of the burrows, this one had a man-made brick wall at the far end, forming part of the architecture, which the boys immediately recognised as the shaft of an old well dating back to their own era, forming a 'chimney' down into the warren. At the foot of the wall, they spotted a gaping hole from where a chunk of bricks had crumbled away as a result of the weight of earth and debris pilling up inside the well over the centuries, causing it to rupture. Jamie and Kenny smiled; it seemed they had just found another way out of this death trap.

Crawling through the hole into the shaft, Jamie saw that although it was open to the sky, it was too high and completely vertical, making it impossible to climb up without a rope. Glancing at the circular patch of sky just out of his reach several feet above, he saw the outline of a rabbit staring down at them; Cowslip was still there, the twisted rabbit unable to resist listening to the cries of his 'traitorous' people as they were being slaughtered.

"How could you do this, you sick bastard?" spat Jamie, glaring up at Cowslip, "Sacrifice your own people and family for slaughter?"

"I have no need for traitors," sneered the mad rabbit with sickening glee, "More hlessil will come along soon or later and I can start anew. You see, you dumb ithe? Your foolish father and his friends made the same mistake when they thought they could outsmart me; but I am smarter than you think. Oh, and by the way, I believe that's another of you friends come to join you; except, I think he'd prefer your fate to his own grim misfortune…" It was only then that Jamie realised that there was another rabbit lying on the bottom of the well, amidst a bed of dry leaves and twigs. Behind them, Celandine, who had followed them, gasped in shock.

"Frith of Inle, it's Nose-in-the-Air!"

Sure enough, Jamie and Hannah recognised the stubborn, defiant Owsla scout from Ash's old Owsla, who had chosen not to put his trust in Jamie and deserted their group back at Sandleford, along with his friends, of which there was no sign. And by the look of it, things hadn't gone well for him at all; now, all battered and bruised, the rabbit lay barely alive before them, having fallen down the shaft it seemed, while making his way here.

Turning him over, Jamie's fears were instantly confirmed; the rabbit's face was swollen with raw lesions, his eyes glassy and bloodshot, similar to how Rosebud and Flyairth had been back at Thinial. With a sigh, the boy realised Nose-in-the-Air had contracted Myxomatosis by venturing close to the plague warren, which was already in the advanced stages, leaving him beyond help. To make matters worse, Jamie, aware of how contagious the disease could be, realised his rabbit friends were now in even greater danger by being trapped in here with an infected rabbit among them. Sure enough, Celandine uttered a gasp of horror.

"Frith have mercy! White Blindness!" she screamed, backing away from the sick rabbit. Alerted by her shouts, several of Cowslip's rabbits appeared, just as Jamie and Kenny dragged the semiconscious rabbit inside the burrow. Whether they could recognise Myxomatosis by sight or scent, Jamie didn't know; all he knew was that the instant they noticed Nose-in-the-Air, there was instant panic and uproar.

"White Blindness! We have to get out of here! Run for your lives!" the rabbits shouted, completely losing it in fear of the ghastly disease now prowling into their midst. Before Jamie and his friends could do anything to reassure them, the panicked group, terrified beyond reasoning, were flying for the exit; straight into the waiting hands of the humanoids!

"Come back you fools!" Jamie's group all shouted in unison, "You'll be killed!" But it was already too late as Cowslip's rabbits found themselves face to face with their waiting savage custodians. Jamie and Kenny barely managed to catch up and restrain Hickory and Marigold, before they could join their doomed friends to slaughter, and drag them back inside. The group, now reduced to seven, turned away from the cries of the dying.

They could hear some of the rabbits that had somehow made it past the mob, fleeing through the trees on the hillside above the warren, the hunters and their hounds in hot pursuit. Suddenly, there was a familiar cry of terror, followed by a loud thud coming from the shaft; someone had missed it in the dark and plummeted down to the bottom. Hurrying back to the burrow, they saw that figure was non other than…

"Well, well, Cowslip," sneered Jamie, as they all crowded around the large rabbit, which shrunk back in terror, expecting them to attack him, "How nice of you to join us for the party…" Apparently too preoccupied with listening to their panicked screams below, Cowslip hadn't been paying attention for approaching danger; thus, he had been caught unawares when some of his fleeing rabbits accidentally came running in his direction, bringing the hounds with them. Finding himself surrounded by the savages, in a moment of panic, Cowslip had jumped down the shaft to save his life, ironically joining his intended victims in their death trap. Above ground, they could hear the painful cries of the last of his rabbits being killed.

Jamie and Kenny instantly drew their knives, pinning Cowslip to the floor, "One move and I'll stick this right up your nose and rip it open!" Jamie hissed dangerously, touching the tip of the blade of his Swiss Army knife up Cowslip's left nostril, while Kenny kept his own pressed over the terrified rabbit's throat, making sure he wasn't going anywhere. The other rabbits all rounded on him in rage and hate.

"You despicable monster!" shrieked Celandine, cuffing him furiously, "What kind of a rabbit are you?" Beside her, Hickory and Marigold glared at their former Chief with triumphant smirks, thoroughly enjoying having their tormentor at their mercy for a change. Cowslip, on the other hand, seemed about to wet himself in fear as they continued to give him murderous looks, not uttering a word.

"So what do we do with this back-stabbing piece of garbage Jamie?" asked Kenny, cracking his knuckles in a menacing manner, "I say we kick him out and watch those savages make hamburger out of him too…"

"No, please, wait!" screeched Cowslip, finding his voice, looking terrified at the prospect of being sent to share his people's fate, "I…I can tell you where your father is!" Still brandishing his knife in Cowslip's face, Jamie stared deep into Cowslip's mad eyes, "Then out with it!"

"They…they said they were on their way to the high hills, where the sound carries every whisper…" Cowslip explained, describing the place he had overheard Johnson's group mentioning when they had been here.

"Watership Down," Jamie muttered in realisation, matching the description in his mind, "I might have known Johnson would recommend such a fitting location for his friends. Maybe they also found that HAB place we saw on the pager…" He turned back to Cowslip and walloped him hard on the nose with the handle of his knife, causing him to curl up on the floor in pain,

"That's for Snitter! Be grateful I am not giving you worse…"

"You are not going to just let him go are you?" asked Hannah, "If this back-scratching riff-raff escapes, he could go to the Efrafans and lead them to us…" Jamie seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as he turned to the rest of his group.

"Then, we'll make him our guest. Kenny, collar him!" he said, tossing his friend Snitter's discarded lead and choke-chain, who smirked, "You're the boss mate!" In an instant, Cowslip was on the end of a dog's lead, like a pet animal, and he wasn't enjoying it at all.

"By Frith, watch what you're doing with that thing, you're chocking me!" he groaned, as Kenny roughly pulled him to his feet, smirking, "You don't like it? Then how about we hang you from the roof by the neck? Would that be more comfortable for you?" The evil rabbit seemed to regain some of his bravado, as his fear turned to anger at being humiliated like that.

"You can't do this to me, you ungrateful wretches! You watch, I'll have my revenge when the time comes! You'll pay for this Marigold, and you too Hickory, you traitorous hrakamarlin…!" His ranting was cut short as Kenny slapped a length of duct tape over his mouth, gagging him, before dragging him away.

With Cowslip securely tied to a root in the Hall of Bones and out of their way, they turned their attention back to Nose-in-the-Air, still lying unconscious in the back burrow. While the rabbits nervously kept their distance, fearful of catching the disease as well, the boys and Hannah tended to the sick rabbit. It didn't take them long to realise that Nose-in-the-Air was in a bad way; the buck was burning up with a fever, the lesions on his face swollen from infection.

"Ken, do we have anything to bring the swelling down?" Jamie asked, as he cleaned the lesions, as well as several scratches, with antiseptic cream, regardless of how little good it would do the rabbit now. Kenny shook his head sadly, going through the few remaining contents of the first aid kit.

"No, there is nothing in this stupid lunchbox," he said, putting the kit aside. Outside, they could still hear the terrible sounds of the natives, moving to and fro, probably gathering up their slaughtered prey, "Mate, what are we going to do?" Jamie flinched as he realised all eyes had suddenly turned to him at those words.

"Well, I…I don't know. I suppose we'll just have to wait until they go…"

"Only they don't seem likely to do that any time soon, are they?" snapped Kenny, "What more do those blighters want with us? Haven't they gotten enough dead meat for one day?"

"Maybe they've noticed we're human too and are curious…" Jamie reasoned. Kenny sneered.

"Curious? You mean curious as in to skewer us on the end of a pike and roast us over a slow fire? Maybe they think we'll taste good slapped between two buns with onions and spices…" Seeing the frightened looks on their companions' faces, Jamie elbowed his friend in the ribs to shut him up. At that moment, Nose-in-the-Air began to stir.

"Wh…where am I?" moaned the sick rabbit in a raspy voice from dehydration caused by his high fever, his breathing laboured and painful. Jamie knelt beside him and even Celandine built up the courage to approach enough so she could hear him.

"Nose-in-the-Air, it's us! Can you hear me?" she called, as the boys helped the sick rabbit gulp down some water. It seemed to work somewhat, as Nose-in-the-Air recognise their voices, his swollen, sightless eyes staring in Jamie's direction.

"Thank you. Is that you again ithe? Have I finally found you?"

"Yes," replied the boy grimly, "It's me, with Celandine and Hannah. Willow is dead; Ash and Nightshade might be as well. Things didn't turn out as I expected…"

"Easy for you to say ithe," moaned Nose-in-the-Air miserably, "At least you're still alive; I am already a dead rabbit who just hasn't stop breathing yet. Stay away from me before I infect you as well…"

"What about Butterbur and Pine Needles?" asked Celandine, noticing the absence of her former fellow warren rabbit's two sidekicks, "What happened to them?"

"Dead," said Nose-in-the-Air grimly, launching into his story of what had happened to them after they had left Sandleford. According to him, they reached Thinial all right, only to discover it was indeed a plague warren infested with quarantine rabbits, realising too late that Jamie had been telling the truth.

"We turned tail and fled the moment we picked up the scent of the disease – and after hearing those poor fellows screaming at us to go away while we still could – but it was already too late," Nose-in-the-Air explained, "By the following day, the sickness was upon us too; Pine Needles was the first to get sick. In his desperation, he went mad and fled, and we never saw him again; I suspect he was picked off by elil after going blind. Butterbur and I returned to the ruins of Sandleford to find you, but you had already gone. So we tried following your trail; as we were crossing the river using a collapsed tree, Butterbur lost his footing, fell in and drowned." The others lowered their heads sadly, realising Butterbur and Pine Needles had been lost.

"Shortly thereafter, I felt the White Blindness getting to me as well; by the second day, I could barely walk and could feel my vision and sense of smell going fast. I kept going round in circles blindly, until I came across that hole and fell in. Frankly, I think it would have been better if you had just left me to die there…"

"Fat lot of good that would do us now," retorted Hickory, "If those ithel outside don't kill us, you will…!"

"Hear, hear," added Kenny sarcastically, "We've got Jason outside and Cujo down here. How worse can things get?" The answer came not a moment too soon, as several arrows with smoking buds on the tips shot down the shaft; the smoke, thick and asphyxiating, was sucked through the opening in the wall by the breeze, chocking up the warren.

"They are trying to gas us out! Move! Back to the main hall!"

As Kenny helped Nose-in-the-Air along, Jamie and the others scrambled out of the burrow, piling up all the loose earth and stones they could find on their way out, blocking the entrance. But it wasn't enough to stop the gas, as it slowly sipped through the loose earth, coming after them. With only a few minutes to spare, they retreated to the Hall of Bones.

"We can't hold out for much longer here," Jamie said, "This place will be a gas chamber within minutes; we have to find a way out of here right now!"

"And just how to you propose we do that?" asked Kenny, "The only way to make those guys leave us alone is to _feed_ them. Surely, you aren't suggesting we draw straws and the loser can offer himself up as a ham sandwich, while the rest of us make a break for it?" Jamie couldn't even find the words to chastise his friend. Sarcastic as he may be, Kenny was right; their only chance of escape was if one of them sacrificed himself to the savages, so that they may get their full kill and withdraw.

They all turned to Cowslip, who trembled; undoubtedly, he was the most likely candidate for the job and there was no one here who had any reason to pity him after what he had done to them. With a groan of frustration, Cowslip realised it was poetic justice; he had spent a lifetime sacrificing other rabbits for his own welfare, but this time, all because of a moment of sheer stupidity, his intended victims would sacrifice him in _their_ place to save themselves. And there was nothing he could do about it other than hope for a quick death…

Before they could announce his doom however, Cowslip, as well as everyone else, were caught by surprise as Nose-in-the-Air spoke, "That coward isn't even worth being sacrificed for slaughter; _I'll_ do it." They all turned to stare at him in alarm.

"What are you saying? Are you mad?" gasped Hickory, "That's suicide!"

"I am as good as dead anyway," insisted the sick rabbit, "Even if I survive this fever, I would just be a burden, not to mention a danger to you all."

"We can still help you…somehow…" Jamie protested, despite having no idea _how_ he could do that. Nose-in-the-Air was right; as a carrier of the disease, he was too dangerous around them, and would hold them up in his condition if they took him along.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life like those rabbits at Thinial," he said, "This way, I'll die knowing I've done my duty. I remember Ash saying that even ithel can sense the disease; although they are immune to it, they fear it just as much as we do, because it can infect and kill their prey, leading their colonies to starvation. With my condition, I am the perfect distraction to divert their attention, while you run…"

"Like hell are we going to offer you up for slaughter…!" Jamie tried protesting again but the sight of the smoke approaching from the back burrows made him realise there was no more time for arguments. Nose-in-the-Air turned to Jamie, his swollen face forming into a thin smile, "Consider this an apology for not believing you young bucko. You just make sure you get the rest of these rabbits to safety. Old Captain Broom told me to pass this message on to you, if I found you: head for Redstone Warren; that's the safest place. Good luck!"

Without another word, he suddenly turned and bolted up the run, out into the open. Staring up after him, Jamie and the others saw the savages, which had been posing outside, waiting to strike, back away at the sight of the diseased rabbit, also dragging their hounds away from this menace. In an insane manner, Nose-in-the-Air, rather than running for his life like any sane rabbit would, started running round in circles, taunting them.

"Come and get me you bastards! That's right; come and get a taste of sweet White Blindness!" Despite his blindness and lack of strength, he was still able to accomplish his goal: the savages, taking their attention from the warren's entrance, from where they were expecting the rest of their prey to emerge after being gassed out of their hidey-hole, turned to him instead. Although they kept their distance, determined to rid themselves of this source of plague, they proceeded to throw stones at the sick rabbit.

The first few missed; then, one stone found Nose-in-the-Air square on the head and he collapsed. The bludgeoning trauma to his brain instantly cast him into unconsciousness, sparing him the agony of being skewered through the guts by the native's spear that followed shortly thereafter. Carrying the body on the end of the spear, the humanoids chucked it into the fire they had built for their gas buds, destroying the threat to their livestock. In the confusion, none of them noticed the rest of their prey escaping unnoticed, right from under their noses…

With Jamie and Kenny in the lead, the group noiselessly made their way out of the death warren, mere seconds before the smoke from the arrow buds engulfed the Hall of Bones completely, making their way towards the woods. Glancing in the direction of the preoccupied savages, they saw Nose-in-the-Air's skewered and twitching body being dumped into the flames for disposal. At this horrible sight, Marigold gave a gasp of terror; the hounds, whose hearing ability exceeded that of their masters', heard it and started growling, redirecting the savages' attention back to them.

"RUN!"

In an instant, the chase had resumed; like a pack of hungry wolves, the savages were hot on their heels again, going for the kill. Jamie, Kenny, Hannah, Celandine, Hickory and Marigold ran as fast as their legs could carry them, fleeing into the woods, the savages following close behind.

"Down to the river! I've got an idea!" Jamie called, as they made for the bank of the new, unnamed tributary he had discovered the other day. Hurrying to the edge of the water, they found the yellow dingy from Johnson's plane, where the boy had moored it, should they find any use for it…like now. Hastily removing the stones he had placed inside it, to keep it from blowing away, Jamie, with Kenny's help, pushed the raft into the water.

"All right, everybody in! Well, what are you waiting for…?" Realising what their young friend had in mind, the rabbits had suddenly frozen in fear. This didn't come as a big surprise to Jamie, remembering how these rabbits of this future world weren't particularly good swimmers, human-level intelligence or not, and the idea of hitching a ride down a river in a dingy hardly appealed to them.

"Get into that…giant sunflower that floats? No, we'll drown!" shrieked Marigold, her eyes darting between the river and the forest, which was filled with the growls of the approaching humanoids' hounds, as if trying to determine which choice would be the least painful way to die. But Jamie, determined not to lose another member of his group tonight, would hear none of it.

"If you stay here, you're dinner for those guys! Now come on!" he yelled, grabbing the thrashing Marigold and tossing her into the dingy, while Kenny did the same with Hickory. Celandine and Hannah followed behind them, the boys piling in last. Just as the hounds reached the riverbank, Jamie pushed off from shore, furiously paddling downstream with his surviving companions, leaving the nightmare behind them. It was only then that he realised how fast his heart was pounding…

Meanwhile, back in the deserted Hall of Bones, Cowslip, finding himself alone, had finally managed to peel off the duct-tape gag and gnawed through Snitter's rope-fibber lead, freeing himself. Shaking off the shredded lead and choke chain, he made for the exit run, curious to find out what had happened to his traitorous daughter and her hlessil friends. Had those miserable intruders lured her to destruction with their foolish little scheme of escape?

Cautiously making his way above ground, he saw the worst was over; the humanoids were finally gone, taking the slain bodies of their latest victims – including those of their own kind, killed by Jamie's flare – with them. The only evidence of their visit was the field, all splattered with blood and disturbed grass from the massacre, as well as the remains of the fire, which stunk of burnt rabbit flesh, which would soon be washed away by the rain. It was only then that Cowslip realised, this time he had gone too far.

A brief search of the boundaries confirmed there wasn't a single rabbit left; his warren was completely deserted, the last of his rabbits having been snatched away by their humanoid custodians. There was no sign of Marigold or Hickory, or those two ithel either; although he hadn't seen what had happened to them, their disappearance could only mean they had fallen prey to the humanoids too. Even if some of them had managed to escape, they wouldn't get very far with the elil of the night out hunting for food. They were as good as dead.

In spite of his delight of having finally rid himself of those troublemakers, Cowslip was infuriated that the price for vengeance had been so high. There was no other way to look at it; he was ruined, left with nothing but an empty warren. And if his custodians realised that – which he knew they must, otherwise they wouldn't have left – then there was no reason for them to keep supplying him with more flayrah. His ancestor's ancient pact had just drawn to a close.

Cursing that young ithe for causing all this trouble, as well as Robbins for encouraging him to go ahead with this foolish plan of his in the first place, Cowslip retreated back down to his warren, refusing to swallow the bitter fruits of defeat…

With the dingy making its way downstream in the dark of night, Jamie and his group of five were able to take a while to recuperate, glad to have escaped from that death trap. Although uninjured, all of them were still struggling to recover from the terror they had witnessed, as well as from the grief for the loss of their friends.

Aside from Snitter, Willow and Nose-in-the-Air, the greatest grief came to Hickory and Marigold, for the deaths of all their friends. Although they had gotten their lifelong wish of escaping the tharn life Cowslip had outlined for them, they couldn't help but feel responsible for leading their friends to slaughter in the process. Now they sat silently, their heads and ears drooping in silent grief. Perhaps this hadn't been a good idea after all?

Noticing their distress, Jamie passed the paddle to Kenny, and turned to face their two new companions. Crawling up beside them, he placed a comforting hand on Marigold's shoulder.

"There is no point blaming yourself for your friends," he said, trying to comfort her and Hickory. The doe looked up at him in surprise, still unaccustomed to being handled by a human, "It's that miserable scumbag Cowslip who's to blame for everything that happened tonight…"

"But we persuaded them to join us against him," muttered Hickory miserably, "He would have had no reason to harm them if we hadn't dragged them into this…"

"If it's of any consolation, they are far better off dead than to continue living that tharn life Cowslip meant them to," said Celandine, also trying to comfort their new friends and fellow outcasts, "At least they died _free_ of that mad rabbit's control; your newfound freedom is their legacy to you. The best you can do, to honour their sacrifice, is to live as normal rabbits again, just like Frith expects of every naylte in His image." Encouraged by the doe's kind words, the couple nodded in agreement. Whatever challenges their new life had in store for them, they would brave it.

"So where do we go now, Jamie?" Kenny asked, as they continued making their way down the river in the dark of night, with nothing but Jamie's small flashlight to light their way.

"I think that's obvious Ken; we are going to try to make for that HAB place on Watership Down; that's the most likely place where we might find my father and the rest of Johnson's group. The quicker we find them and warn them of Robbins and the Efrafans, the better. Hopefully, Ash and Nightshade might have already found them and waiting for us…" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Celandine's face turn hopeful; following the deaths of Willow and Nose-in-the-Air, she felt extremely lonely by being the only remaining Sandleford rabbit, but the prospect of reuniting with her beloved Ash again soon, kept her hopes up.

As Jamie was going through the time capsule, looking for the pager to recheck the location of the HAB and compare it with his compass reading, to make sure the river was taking them in the right direction, he suddenly realised something was wrong.

The aerie silence of night, broken only by the occasion quacking of frogs or the hooting of owls, was suddenly filled with the roaring sound of rushing water…a lot of it. Staring down at the water, the boys quickly realised they were caught in the rapids, heading straight towards a…

"Waterfall! Look out!" shrieked Hannah, pointing over Jamie's shoulder at the edge of a naturally-formed weir with a long and dangerous slide down the side of a slope into who-knows-where. In an instant, both boys were furiously paddling back upstream, trying to get away from the threatening weir, but it was no use.

"Everybody hold on as tight as you can! Things are about to get…!" Before Jamie could finish his sentence, the dingy was washed over the edge of the weir, overturned, and sending the entire group plummeting into the churning water. In an instant, their screams of terror were gone and replaced by the never-ending sound of the weir and it's rapids, which had just swallowed them up…

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay but I was busy, as well as giving the first story another proofreading. Again, I remind you everything is happening in parallel with the first story; this is happening around the time Alan and his remaining party escaped from Efrafa back to 2013. Coming up next, Jamie and co reach Watership Down and the Efrafans… Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	17. Chapter 17 Nothing Left to Lose

In the dark of night, five soaked and exhausted figures emerged from the river: Jamie, Kenny, Celandine, Hickory and Marigold dragged themselves onto the shore, the boys struggling frantically to salvage what little was left of their equipment, which had washed ashore with them.

After going over the edge of the weir, the group had barely managed to escape being swallowed up by grabbing hold onto each other, until they had been washed up onto a sandbank further downriver. Everything they had been carrying in the dingy, including the boat itself, had been lost, save for Jamie's nearly empty survival pouch and anything else the boys had been carrying in their pockets at the time. But that was nothing compared to their greatest loss of all…

"Hannah? Where is Hannah?" Jamie asked, suddenly realising that his little friend was nowhere to be seen. His companions' faces all fell, as they realised the obvious: the mouse, being the smallest of them all, and thus the most vulnerable, had been swept away by the water when they had gone over the weir, and drowned.

The boy sank to his knees, overwhelmed with sorrow. Hannah had been the first friend he had made in this future world, and by far the closest, always looking out for him with her encouragement, high spirit, and gentle nature. Now, because of his utter stupidity in not thinking of grabbing hold of her back there, she was gone. He sat, running his hands through his hair in silent misery, wondering how would he explain what had happened to Rosebud, if he ever brought back help for her?

The moment of silence was broken by Kenny, who grabbed his friend by the shoulders, "Dude, I know this might sound cruel, but you must put Hannah out of your mind right now – the mourning can wait for later. We have to pull ourselves together and fast; we still have a long way to go. Are you listening to me?" Jamie slowly looked up at his friend, fighting the urge to yell at him to bugger off, as the truth sank in. Hannah was lost and there was nothing he could do about it; and meanwhile, he still had the responsibility Ash had assigned to him, of getting his remaining companions to safety.

Using his entire self-will to pulling himself together, Jamie finally stood up, resuming command of his party, "All right, it's too dark to carry on, on foot. We'll spend the night here and continue on to Watership Down in the morning."

Taking shelter in some thickets, the boys started taking inventory of what they had left of their equipment: Going through his kit, Jamie found only the survival tin, containing the flints, marker, whistle, fishing hooks and saw-wire, and his flashlight. He still had his Swiss Army knife, safely tucked in its holster in his belt, much to his relief. His cell phone and survival guide were also safe, by being wrapped in a waterproof plastic bag. As for Ken, he still had his prized pocketknife from the time capsule and his mother's picture, which had been badly smudged by the water, much to his dismay.

The time capsule and all its precious contents had been lost, including the pager containing their map to the HAB, and all that other useful information they might have needed. Although Jamie had found the device in his pocket, it was dead, shorted-out by the water, proving that even this state-of-the-art futuristic technology was quite vulnerable after all. Worst still, Kenny discovered their matches had also been ruined, leaving them shivering wet out in the open, with nothing to keep lurking predators at bay.

Finally, they resorted to huddling close together under a blanket of leaves, cringing at the hooting sounds of circling owls, unable to sleep, despite their exhaustion. That was until Jamie resorted to trying his flints from the tin he had taken from the chopper debris field. Never having used flints before, always being reliant on matches or a lighter during his camping trips with his father, it took quite a bit of experimenting, as well as a couple of bruised fingers, before he finally got it right.

Soon, they had a roaring campfire going and the boys were able to hang out their wet clothes on overhead branches to dry. Wearing only his trousers, Jamie sat beside Hickory and Marigold, as they struggled to make themselves comfortable for the night. The pair huddled up close to him, freely enjoying his company now that they were free of Cowslip's control. In spite of his grief for Snitter, Willow, and Hannah, and even Nose-in-the-Air, whose sacrifice had gotten them out of that death trap alive, Jamie couldn't help but admire his new friends' friendliness.

"You know, that was a very brave thing you did for us back there; at best, we had hoped that you would listen to our warning and leave, find your father, and pass our appeal for help on to him. You could have been killed tonight…" Jamie only smiled at Hickory's praise.

"Don't mention it Hickory, I wasn't about to leave you two at Cowslip's mercy. If anything, I am sorry I couldn't save your other friends as well…" Although the two rabbits couldn't find the words to reassure him on this one, given that, technically, it had been Jamie's interference that had caused Cowslip to snap and decide to sacrifice his people as a whole, rather than see them go free. Still, even the survival of just Hickory and Marigold felt somewhat comforting, that all these deaths hadn't been for naught; and the two rabbits had made a personal vow to themselves to make their friends' sacrifice count.

The following morning, the trek resumed. Instead of going on the way they had originally planned – by following the river downstream, which Jamie remembered passed through the vicinity of the Down -, he and Kenny had decided on a quicker route: by diverting away from the river, which went round in a circle to the west, they'd walk in a straight line to the southeast, saving them several miles – assuming of course, they didn't miss the Down on the way.

Sure enough, by midday, when they still hadn't caught sight of Watership Down, the terrain looking entirely unfamiliar to them, Jamie was beginning to question the wisdom of their idea of taking this shortcut. While back in their home time, the two boys knew this part of the countryside by heart, in this future world, everything had changed so much, there was little to no familiar landmarks left. Even their rabbit friends were of little help to them; Hickory and Marigold had never been more than a few hundred yards beyond their home warren in their lives, with Cowslip always keeping them on a short leash, and even Celandine, being a doe, had little experience in Owsla tracking.

Jamie heartedly wished Ash was still with them; following the death of Willow, they no longer had any Owsla rabbit among them, whose valuable training in navigation and combat skills would have been of great help to them now, leaving them more vulnerable than ever. But there was no turning back anymore; none of them had any choice but to keep going and hope for the best.

At noon, they stopped to rest on the edge of a vast grassland, with scattered patches of forest here and there. A hill front was visible in the far distance, which Jamie planned to inspect up close that afternoon; if they were lucky, that had to be White Hill, Watership Down, and Beacon Hill, yet he couldn't be certain until they got closer. With the rabbits on silflay, and Kenny out looking for berries they could eat, Jamie made himself comfortable in the shade under a tree, to get some rest. He was busy making another log recording in his phone, when Kenny suddenly reappeared, looking alarmed.

"What's up with you, mate?"

"There is someone out there on the meadow, over there!" Kenny panted, "A rabbit I think, I couldn't see properly…" Everybody was on their feet instantly. Who could it be? Was it their missing companions or the enemy? Celandine in particular, looking hopeful, was about to dart in the direction where Kenny had come, to see for herself, but Jamie stopped her.

"Wait with the others and stay out of sight; Ken and I will check it out." Although obviously not too happy, luckily, Celandine obeyed without argument. Picking up his knife, to use as a weapon in case there was trouble, and instructing Kenny to do the same with his, Jamie followed his friend to the edge of the meadow. Looking out to where Ken was pointing, he saw the unmistakable figure of a rabbit – two of them actually – lying side by side in the tall grass. From afar, they seemed to be either resting or crouching in a hidden position. Whatever they were, they didn't move, apparently not having noticed the boys by the trees.

Cautiously, Jamie motioned to Kenny and they crept closer. The youngest McEwen couldn't help but feel a sense of _déjà vu_ as they approached the unmoving figures, the hair on the back of his head prickling nervously, and he knew Kenny must also be feeling the same. Something was very wrong. And it didn't take them long to find out what, as they laid eyes on a horrible sight.

"Oh, my God…"

Lying in the grass were the slaughtered bodies of Ash and Nightshade, looking as if the wildest of predators had gotten them; their fur was stained with drying blood coming from ugly claw wounds covering them from head to toe, testifying to the aftermath of a violent struggle. There was no question what had happened; they had run foul of the Efrafans, probably ambushed, meeting the same fate as Stan Hallows.

Both of them had been disembowelled, their entrails protruding from gaping wounds, and their throats ripped out, the neck torn down to the neck bone. A ghastly puddle of semi-dried blood formed a trail in the grass beside the bodies. Their eyes and ears were missing, probably the killer's calling card mark of sorts. Flies and insects were beginning to nibble at the bodies, attracted by the smell of blood and decomposition.

_No, no, no, no, no…!_

For an instant, the two boys were petrified with horror; then Jamie turned away and retched all over the grass, followed by Kenny. No sooner had the vomiting stopped than an overwhelming wave of guilt swept over Jamie…again. Ash and Nightshade were dead because of him; they had been scouting out here for his father on _his_ behalf, costing them their lives in the process. What's more, he had left Willow, Snitter and Hannah get killed on his watch; five of his companions dead, not counting Nose-in-the-Air and his own bunch who had walked out on their group because of their distrust towards him, only to meet a similarly bad end. He sunk to the ground.

_Ash probably knew this would happen; that's why he didn't want me coming along…_ He didn't know how long he sat there before he heard the rest of their companions approaching, uttering gasps of horror at the sight of the slaughtered rabbits. He felt his insides curl up at the sound of Celandine's wail of despair as she caught sight of her murdered lover.

"Oh, no! Please, Frith, no!" Jamie couldn't even find the words to comfort her as she curled up beside Ash's broken body, sobbing her heart out. Hickory and Marigold stood petrified at the grizzly sight, undoubtedly questioning the wisdom of abandoning their old warren. Perhaps Cowslip had been right when he had warned them that venturing out here meant certain death? Before despair could break out amongst the survivors however, Kenny, who had managed to come to his senses first, spoke up.

"Guys, we can't stay here. The Efrafans might return to retrieve the bodies; we have to get the hell out of here now…!" Unfortunately, the deaths of Ash and Nightshade had taken away every ounce of hope the group had left.

"What's the point?" snapped Hickory, "We'll all be dead rabbits if we keep going! It was insane leaving in the first place…" Seeing an imminent collapse of morale, Kenny turned to the one who was supposed to preserve order here; but Jamie sat as if in a trance, fiddling with a twig, his face a blank expression of despair.

"Mate, you've got to pull yourself together and fast; we need your help if we're going to find your dad's group…"

"Give me a break Ken! Dad is dead; and I have been dragging you all on this wild goose chase long enough. My score is five now; what, you want me to improve on that by getting someone else killed?" At this Kenny lost his temper.

"Oh, we're back to that again, are we? Fine, let's say those five deaths were your fault. But if that's the case, then it's bloody well up to you to get the rest of us to safety! If we give up now, we're as good as dead…" Jamie glared at his friend furiously, fighting a strong urge to punch him.

"Since when do _you_ know what it feels losing someone on your account Ken? Your dad treated you like trash all your life and then tried to kill you; and your mother was dead when you were still in diapers. For you, this is just a wonderful new start and all is fine with the world. Well, I have already lost my whole family over this crap and now I am leading those who decided to place their trust me to their deaths, one by one. So just shut the hell up…!"

Kenny was shocked. Although he and Jamie would have their differences every once in a while, he had never expected for one minute his best mate to say something like that; being scorned at because of his broken family background felt nothing sort of betrayal. He rounded on his friend, tightening his hands into fists, his face contorted with rage, "Why, you piece of…!" Jamie's face only showed equal anger as he stood, ready to pick a fight.

Before any blows could be exchanged however, the entire group were suddenly caught off-guard by a strange voice calling them, "Hallo chaps, who are you?" Turning round, they saw two well-built rabbits standing on the edge of the woods, watching them curiously. Both of them looked battered and tired, as if they had recently escaped from some rough struggle.

Their reactions of running into two strangers out here were mixed; Hickory and Marigold seemed about to bolt, probably thinking they were the very same Efrafans who had killed Ash and Nightshade; Jamie and Kenny, having forgotten their spat already, seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as they nervously looked around, expecting an ambush; Celandine, on the other hand, remained as oblivious to the newcomers as the two dead rabbits beside her. To their utmost surprise, at the sight of the bodies, both strangers gasped in recognition.

"Frith of Inle, is that _Liautenant Ash_? And Nightshade? And…is that you, Celandine? Where did you all come from…?" Celandine also seemed to recognise the newcomers, as she turned away from Ash's body, gasping in recognition, "Speedwell? Acorn? Oh, Frith…" In an instant, Jamie realised who they must be: more Sandleford survivors, members of his dad's group! At long last, he had finally found a solid lead on his father!

Soon, Jamie and his band were introduced to the two newcomers, who told them their story. Speedwell and Acorn were indeed former rabbits of Sandleford, Owsla scouts who had survived the catastrophe and set off into the wilderness as part of a group of nineteen, including Jamie's father, Dr Johnson, Dr Shaw, and Robbins, in search of a new home. Their journey had brought them to Cowslip's warren, where Robbins had betrayed them and teamed up with Cowslip, to kill them; just like it had happened with them, the humanoids had stormed the warren, killing one of their group, and capturing several others. In the confusion, Robbins had been attacked by a hawk and left for dead.

Following a daring rescue and a narrow escape, the group – including several other liberated captives of the savages – had set off for their ultimate destination: Watership Down. After settling down, while digging a new warren, they had stumbled across the subterranean HAB Jamie had seen on his pager, where they had found evidence that this world was the result of some experiment conducted by one of Johnson's old colleagues from the 21st century, following the asteroid impact that had destroyed civilisation. They had also learned that a certain Lord Hemlock – a direct ancestor of General Woundwort – had started a revolt, destroying the last remnants of humanity and even killing El-ahrairah, the ancestral leader of these rabbits, causing his people to scatter. To this day, the Efrafans remained strong, controlling the Dark Territory by seizing alien warrens and capturing any outsiders they crossed paths with, to serve as slaves under General Woundwort.

Realising they were neighbours to Efrafa and thus in great danger of an imminent attack, Johnson had led an expedition to spy on the enemy warren and study its defences, using Kenny and Stan Hallows' salvaged balloon; the next day, Derek Shaw had returned alone, accompanied by several Efrafan escapees and even Cowslip's runaway mystic Silverweed, which they had liberated from Woundwort's clutches. However, none of them realised their problems were only just beginning…

"Last night, our warren was attacked full-force by the Efrafan Owsla, led by Robbins," explained Speedwell grimly, "They seized the place and captured everyone, except the two of us, who managed to make a run for it…"

"What about my father?" asked Jamie urgently, fearing the worst. Speedwell only shook his head, "I don't know, young bucko; I suspect he was captured back in Efrafa, along with Alan, Hazel-rah, and the others…"

"So Johnson was innocent all along then?" Kenny piped in, intent on clearing up the mystery regarding Johnson once and for all, "That bleeder Robbins was behind all of this from the start, wasn't he?" Both Speedwell and Acorn gave him a hard look.

"I'll have you know that Alan has been a faithful ally and a good friend to us from the moment we met him; so were Derek and Major McEwen. But that cold-hearted scoundrel Robbins has caused us so much pain and suffering, he deserves to die!" Jamie only had a second to reflect on how they had been set up by Robbins and Cowslip – all that cock-and-bull story of _Dr Johnson_ selling their party out to the Efrafans -, letting that conning scum steal his glider in the process, not to mention leading those five to their deaths, before the two rabbits' expressions turned urgent.

"Please," Acorn said, "Our friends have all been captured by those Efrafan scum; if we don't do something, Woundwort will kill them or make them into slaves. We can't allow our friends – especially our does – subjected to the cruelty of that bastard. All those horrible stories that doe Hyzenthlay and her friends have been telling us; all that torture, abuse, misery… You've got to help us!" As if on queue, Speedwell, a more dignified Owsla scout, spoke up.

"Acorn and I intend to return to the warren after dark to try and save them, before they are moved to Efrafa. I will not ask for anyone to come along on this escapade; if any of you however still wish to volunteer at your own risk, I for one would be eternally grateful for your help…"

"In that case, I'd like to be first in line – Speedwell, isn't it?" Jamie said, standing up, "I have come too far to give up on my father now. And don't you say I can't come; there is no way I am going to let someone else die fighting my battle, while I wait on the sidelines," he said, gesturing at Ash's mangled body. Although Speedwell seemed hesitant about taking Jamie along when they were going up against numerous murderous Efrafans, because of his youth, his sympathy – or rather his anger – for what had happened to Ash and Nightshade, as well as the fact that Major McEwen had done so much for his friends, won out.

"Glad to have you along, young one," he said, giving Jamie a friendly wink, "Anybody else?" Kenny was next to volunteer whole-heartedly, refusing to let his friend go alone. Jamie felt grateful, regretting his harsh words earlier, but Kenny's grin told him he had no hard feelings over their little row and wasn't giving it another thought. Hickory and Marigold on the other hand, were non-too-keen on the idea, undoubtedly afraid of going up against the stronger, savage Efrafans.

"Well, I guess this is where we part ways," Jamie told them, "But I suggest you don't stay here, waiting for us to come back for you. By the sound of it, the Efrafans are probably sweeping the countryside for us; if they catch you, you're lost…" These words made the duo reconsider; their human friend indeed had a good point, that the Efrafans would be merciless, whether they caught them out here, or trespassing into their lair. At least, as a group, they stood a better chance…maybe. Finally, they gave in and decided to go along. That left only Celandine, who proved to be the least keen on coming along – or more precise, going anywhere.

"Come on Celandine," Kenny said to the distraught doe, who still lay huddled close to her dead mate's body, as if in a trance, "We have to go…"

"Then go. You can still save yourselves; but this is where I stop running. My place is here, with Ash…" The others listened in silent horror; by the sound of it, Celandine intended to just stay here and die alongside her already deceased mate, which wouldn't be too long coming, when the elil would come swarming by nightfall. Speedwell was about to try and reason with her but Jamie stepped in.

"Don't. You guys just get moving and I'll catch up with you shortly." As Speedwell, the newly self-appointed guide of the group, took the others aside to give them some privacy, Jamie turned to Celandine. Wrapping his arms around her, he gently pulled her into his embrace.

"Celandine, I know this will sound hard to you, but I am not leaving unless you come with us. Ash knew he might never return; that's why before he left on this suicide mission, he ordered me to stay behind for a reason: to watch over you and your unborn kittens…" Celandine looked up at him with wide eyes, surprised that Ash had entrusted their personal secret with a stranger, yet refrained from talking back as Jamie went on speaking.

"He wanted you to be safe Celandine – wanted _his children_ to be born safely in their new home. If you choose to die here with him, you're letting him down; you've got to keep going for his sake. If you can't do it for him, then at least you can do it for the kittens in your belly." This seemed to finally snap Celandine out of her trance as she started sobbing on Jamie's shoulder, realising that, as a future mother, it was her duty to carry on living, for the sake of her family, even without her beloved mate. Slowly, she nodded, struggling to hold back her tears.

"Thank you Jamie. You truly are a good soul…"

Satisfied to see her will restored, Jamie hugged her in reassurance, "Just returning the favour; you persuaded your friends to trust me back at Sandleford when they had no reason to; you nursed Kenny back to health when he was injured and in shock. You are stronger than you think Celandine, make no mistake about that. Come on, we have a long way to go…"

"Wait," she said, turning back to the bodies, "Before we go, let's give them a decent burial. I don't want to leave them here like this, as easy food for the scavenging crows and rats…" Although Jamie knew they had to hurry, if they were to make it to Watership Down in time, his respect for his two dead friends won out.

After digging two shallow graves – Celandine insisted on digging Ash's all by herself – they laid Ash and Nightshade to rest with all the decency in their power. Kenny also dug a small hole beside the graves and placed Stan Hallows' wallet, which he still carried on him, in it, giving him the closest he would ever get to a burial. Jamie's mind flashed back to their other companions who had perished but would never be given a proper burial: Pine-Needles and Butterbur had been lost out there; Nose-in-the-Air, Willow, and Snitter had been taken by the humanoids; and Hannah had been swallowed up by the river. He felt his heart sink…

The orange glow of sunset had started appearing on the western horizon by the time the group of seven finally set off towards Watership Down on their rescue mission, leaving the three unmarked graves behind them. Speedwell, being an experienced Owsla scout, had assumed command, replacing Ash, although Jamie was technically still leader of the group.

In spite of their heavy hearts for the deaths of Ash and Nightshade, not to mention dreading the peril of their upcoming mission, their renewed hope of finally reaching the end of their journey had boosted their confidence, restoring some good mood. Speedwell and Acorn in particular were eager to hear Jamie's story, amazed to find another talking human stranded in their world, not to mention accompanied by several of their so-far-presumed-dead fellow Sandlefordians, and two of Cowslip's rabbits, which had finally decided to give up their tharn life.

Jamie told them of his amazing journey to find his father and all the adventures he had had on the way: his visit at Thinial, the rescue of the trapped Sandleford survivors, their escapades at Cowslip's warren, everything that had finally brought them here. Speedwell and Acorn were amazed – and impressed - beyond belief.

"Frith of Inle, young bucko, your escapades are worthy of those of El-ahrairah himself!" the Owsla scout praised Jamie, "Oh boy, Bigwig is going to be so happy when he hears old Cowslip has been ruined, good and proper. More than what that rotter deserves, after what he tried to do to us…"

"Then I take it, you might have some problems admitting us into your warren?" asked Marigold nervously, afraid that perhaps the Watershipers' grudge for her insane father's actions towards them would colour their fresh start at this new warren. Speedwell however smiled reassuringly.

"Never fear; Hazel-rah holds no grudges and will be happy to have you all. We must also tell the others about those poor chaps out at Thinial. Maybe Alan can come up with another of his brilliant schemes to help them… Say, can anyone else hear that?" Suddenly, they were all caught by surprise by a new sound that filled the air: the sound of a plane!

"It's coming from the direction of Efrafa," Speedwell said, his ears extended, as his superior hearing pinpointed the source of the sound, "Look, there it is!"

Staring in the distance, they saw a familiar Cessna soar skywards and fly straight into some storm clouds on the western horizon, heading towards the former New Forest area, where the mysterious Aurora had been. Kenny let out a yell of joy at the sight, "We are saved! We have to signal them. Come on, everyone gather wood for a fire…!" But Jamie only shook his head, barking at his friend to pipe down.

"Put a sock in it Ken, goddamn it! They couldn't see us from that far even if they were looking for us!" They continued to watch as the plane disappeared into the storm and was gone from sight. Kenny groaned in exasperation, "Good luck to those blighters, whomever they may be…" Soon, the whirring sound of the plane's engine had faded away and there was only silence.

Nobody dared uttered a word as they pressed on, their minds pondering on the same question: who had been flying the Cessna? Since it had taken off from Efrafa, then there were two possibilities: it could either be Johnson's infiltration party making an escape, or it could be Robbins out doing more dirty work for Woundwort, probably doing an aerial search for the escaped Speedwell and Acorn. However, they had no way of knowing for certain from down here, and with no way to attract attention, they soon put it out of their minds. They pressed on.

Night had fallen by the time they reached the foot of Watership Down. Although the daylight was long gone, the boys didn't dare light a flashlight or a torch, knowing they were now venturing into enemy-occupied territory, and likely to attract unwanted attention. With Speedwell in the lead, they noiselessly made their way through the thickets, careful to remain out of sight, weary of Efrafan patrols.

Suddenly, as they were crossing through Caesar's Belt, they found an interesting surprise. Looking out on the plains at the foot of the hill, they could see something lying in the grass, which, from afar, resembled a curiously shaped collapsed tree trunk. Then, as the light of the moon fell upon it, Jamie gave a gasp.

"Hey, that's my glider!"

Sure enough, they recognised the white plywood fuselage of Jamie's glider, sitting abandoned on the meadow. A fading, narrow tyre trail was visible in the grass behind it, where Robbins had landed it. The pilot seats were empty and the harnesses from the chopper, which they had used to strap passengers down on the wings, lay discarded on the ground. They hurried up to it.

The boys, realising their lucky find, immediately started examining the glider; if it could still fly, then they had just found the perfect means of escape from hostile territory. By air, they could spy on the stronghold of the enemy on the Down without fear of being captured, and even make a hasty retreat when they had found the rest of Speedwell's friends…if they found them _alive_ that is.

Unfortunately, things weren't going to be that easy as Jamie flicked the master switch on the pilot's console to check the power reserves. As he had expected, the batteries had been sucked dry, explaining why Robbins had ditched and abandoned the glider out here in the first place, rather than fly it all the way to Efrafa. He shook his head in disappointment, "Dead. No go."

With nothing useful to salvage from the grounded glider, other than the two emergency parachutes on the pilot's seats, which the boys distributed between them, the group started climbing Watership Down. Even from here, they could hear loud voices and the sound of many individuals moving to and fro. Lying down flat on the side of the slope to avoid being spotted, they chanced a peak over the edge of the peak.

Situated beneath a lone, massive beech tree on the highest point on the Down was the entrance to the Honeycomb, Speedwell's short-lived new warren, which he and his fellow Sandleford survivors – and Dr Johnson's party - had built here. However, rather than being the ultimate safe haven, the place had now become the conquering enemy's new camp.

Burly, stern-faced Efrafan Owsla rabbits stood at attention in neat rows outside the warren, while vigilant sentries circled the perimeter. Other rabbits – presumably officers – were shouting orders to soldiers, who hurried about to carry them out. Also, among the rabbits in charge was Robbins, arguing with a skinny, mean-looking rabbit with a goatee, while another well-built one with rich brown fur and a stern gaze, supervised the reinforcements.

"See what I told you dude?" whispered Kenny to Jamie as they finally saw that Robbins was indeed working with the Efrafans with their own eyes, "I remember that guy from the ambush when Hallows was killed. That creep with the goatee looks familiar too…"

Retaining absolute silence, on Speedwell's direction, they crawled on their stomachs, getting as close as they dared to eavesdrop, all the while taking great care to remain upwind, so the night breeze wouldn't carry their scent to the sentries. Straining their ears, they were able to make out the conversation between Robbins and the two Efrafan officers.

"…The remaining prisoners are safely locked away down below, Campion," said Robbins, "I've checked the schematic; there is no other way out of there, other than through the warren and we have all our lot stationed up here. They aren't going anywhere."

"Good enough," said the stern-faced rabbit called Campion, "Corporal Moss has just returned from Efrafa with a message from the General. He says we are to postpone the rest of the prisoner transportation until tomorrow; Woundwort will be coming here in person then to inspect that secret man-warren the outsiders found at his leisure, to determine whether or not we should set up a permanent outpost here."

"Our life's moment of ultimate glory has arrived," said the evil-faced rabbit gleefully, "Just imagine: for generations, the filthy ithel harnessed the powers of the gods at our expense, but now, fate turns all that power over to the might of Efrafa, where it rightfully belongs. Destiny has finally chosen General Woundwort as the new master of our world – the best choice I say." His expression suddenly turned from nasty to sinister, "In celebration, I say we make an example out of those scum outsiders below, by using them to demonstrate any new powers of war the General acquires tomorrow…"

"Captain Vervain, those outsiders are fellow rabbits and we will certainly not be using them for Owsla sport!" snapped Campion, disgusted by his fellow officer's sadist nature, "No, they will be placed either under arrest or in the slave squads for rehabilitation. Perhaps, over time they can learn the error of their ways and become honest fellow Efrafans…"

"Worthless, human-sympathising filth like them can never hope to be redeemed Campion," sneered Vervain, giving Campion a cold shoulder, "Which reminds me," he added, turning to Robbins, "What do we do about that bunch that escaped from Efrafa today?" From their hiding place, Jamie and the others perked their ears, overjoyed at the news that some of their friends – perhaps even including Jamie's father – had escaped.

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if we had gotten the lot of them at the same time, when we had the chance, rather than sending them round in circles with those hostage ploys and intimidation games of yours…" Robbins only shrugged it off.

"What's your worry, Vervain?" asked the man, looking unconcerned, "Their friends are all in our custody now, we've captured their warren, and we have the HAB; they, on the other hand, have no outside help to turn to, no other place of refuge, and only had half an hour of fuel when they flew into that storm. How far do you think they'd get? They are as good as dead…"

"You know, you are building a reputation of letting enemies slip out of our grasp on your watch," sneered Vervain, still refusing to drop the subject, "First you let that nosing man-kitten go free, and now we lose the outsiders' ringleaders, whose capture would be far more important to us than all their minions put together. The General will be very displeased if they show up again, to ruin our plans…"

"A minor problem that needn't concern us," snapped Robbins, now getting really annoyed, "If they show up, they can share the fate of those two nosy idiots we met back in the woods, simple as that. Then again, I suppose you'd take every available soldier and go blindly sweeping the countryside for them. For crying out loud, you don't have to be Winston Churchill to realise what a tactless, reckless strategy that would be. What's the point of wasting your time picking up breadcrumbs when you already have the loaf at hand? Stupid idiot…"

"Look, I am just saying," persisted Vervain, ignoring the insult, "we should have gotten rid of them just like with those two cheeky fools that troublesome young ithe sent here to spy on us. And I am not entirely convinced that mad rabbit Cowslip had taken care of the rest of them as he promised…"

"All right, that's enough!" barked Campion, ending the argument, "We still have a lot to do before we can sleep. Vervain, you go and arrange the digging of scrapes; there isn't enough room for all of us in the outsiders' cramped warren. I'll assign night watchers in shifts…"

Having heard all they needed to know, Jamie's group retreated to a better hiding spot, to assess.

"I counted twenty or thirty of those bastards up there," said Jamie, "And we have no weapons. It would be suicide trying to take back the warren as we are." Beside him, Speedwell, who had been weighing the odds, based on his Owsla training, spoke up.

"The young bucko is right; a direct counter-attack would be futile. However, we might be able to chance sneaking in there after those scoundrels are asleep, to free our remaining friends, before they can be moved to Efrafa, where they'd be completely beyond help. At least, that's a start…"

"Are you crazy?" said Kenny, "You heard that guy; there will be night sentries out keeping watch. For all we know, they are expecting possible trouble. We'd be caught before we get ten paces…"

"Not necessarily," Speedwell said, his face curling into a smile as he worked out a plan, "El-ahrairah is known to have gone up against greater odds but always pulling through in the end with his cunning and trickery. If we are truly worthy of representing his legendary name, then so can we. What we need is a little distraction…"

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay, but I am currently also working on my first _Secret of NIMH_ fanfic, for those who are interested. In the original draft, Ash turned up alive, but then I decided to have him die for greater drama, and had Speedwell and Acorn show up and join Jamie's group instead. Until next time then. Enjoy and please review!


	18. Chapter 18 From One Deathtrap to Another

In the dark of night, Jamie and his gang circled the captured warren, initiating their plan of infiltration. Speedwell had come up with an idea of creating a diversion, which just might give them a chance to make it inside the Honeycomb and down to the old HAB, located in the bowels of the Down beneath the warren, where he said his companions were being held prisoner by the Efrafans. His plan involved attracting and luring elil to the Down and sending them in a feeding frenzy against the Efrafans; while the enemy would be busy fending off the attackers, they'd hopefully leave the entrance to the Honeycomb unguarded for them to make a break for it. Once inside, they hoped to free their companions and, as a larger force, take back the warren by force.

To accomplish this, some bait was needed; and the one thing that elil responded to, other than a live meal standing before them, was the smell of blood. Speedwell, now sporting an ugly cut on the ear, which Acorn had given him on his request, walked around, smearing the undergrowth with droplets of fresh blood, literally ringing the dinner bell for anything hungry lurking in the vicinity. Watership Down was about to become the dinner table for elil and the Efrafans were the food on the table.

The bait in place, the group of six retreated to their hiding spot at the foot of the Down, to wait and hope for the last thing any sane rabbit would wish for: the hungriest, largest, and most savage kind of predator, with a craving for rabbit blood, they could find. The rabbits sat nervously and alert, silently questioning the sanity of what they were trying to pull off, while Jamie used the last few band-aids from his first aid kit to dress Speedwell's ear. Ignoring the stinging sensation, Speedwell reassessed the plan he had worked out over the past few hours with the boys.

"All right, let's go over it one more time. When mayhem breaks loose up there and the sentries break formations, then what?"

"We run like hell for the Honeycomb and make for that shaft you said leads down to the HAB; we can only go down one at a time on a rope, so we'll have to be quick; if worse comes to worse, Ken and I use our chutes to jump, taking the last two of you with us." He and Ken checked the glider's parachutes they carried with them, the latter looking rather nervous; Ken had never used a parachute in his life and had a distinct fear of heights, and Jamie only having a rough idea of how to use one didn't held matters at all.

"Very good lad," said Speedwell, satisfied by Jamie's ability to work as part of a team, "Remember, you send me down first, then Celandine and Marigold will follow; Hickory and Acorn you send down last…"

"Wait, why do I go last in line?" asked Hickory incredulously, "And why do _you_ get to go first?"

"Because there might be more sentries stationed at the bottom, which I'll have to deal with before you can follow; and you're last in line because if you get cold feet and hold us up on that rope, anyone behind you is dead." Hickory seemed to want to protest again but held his silence, realising Speedwell had a point; he was completely out of his element here, so he needn't endanger those around him with his slackness. And, at least, Marigold would be safe…if Speedwell's insane plan of infiltration didn't turn out to be a fiasco.

"All right then, any further questions, anybody? Celandine?" Turning to the Sandleford doe, Jamie suddenly noticed she looked rather unwell; her head sagged, as if from fatigue, her eyelids heavy, like someone coming down with flu, "Are you feeling all right, girl?"

"Yes, I am fine," stammered Celandine, "Just a little tired…" Truly, she had been feeling off-colour all day, an unpleasant sensation of sickness slowly building up inside her, and it wasn't related to her grief over Ash's death. Her instinct was telling her it was something real bad, which just wasn't in full force yet, but she couldn't bring herself to tell her companions, not now.

They sat in silence, watching the Down; every few seconds, sentries appeared, inspecting the perimeter for any signs of trouble, moving with absolute precision and alertness, displaying no signs of slackness in their defences. It was clear they were all nothing short of professionals, toughened by the harsh discipline of their intense training, which earned them their positions in Woundwort's Owsla. Even a whole bunch of elil wouldn't be enough to take them all out; but at least, it would distract them long enough to leave their posts unguarded for a few seconds, so Jamie's group could breach their security lines.

Suddenly, Speedwell picked up a familiar scent; some eli had picked up the scent of the blood and was coming, looking for an easy meal. Sure enough, the boys could also hear the faint growling of a hungry animal, see the rustling in the trees, as it approached… Suddenly, a large snarling badger emerged from the foliage, its teeth gleaming in the light of the moon, its glowing eyes hungry for meat. The group all froze, retaining absolute silence as the lendri sniffed around, trying to pinpoint the source of the blood.

With Jamie and Kenny restraining the terrified Hickory and Marigold, their hands desperately clamped over the rabbits' mouths, muffling their fearful whimpering, lest they bring the lendri down upon them, they watched the monster circle, its nose sniffing the air. For an instant, Jamie thought it could smell them and would be upon them any second now, as he nervously fingered the open blade of his knife in his pocket… But Speedwell had chosen their hiding spot well, an expert in his field under Captain Holly's instruction; they were _downwind_ to the lendri, invisible, while the Efrafans on the Down were _upwind_, their scent in the breeze acting as a homing signal for the lendri's dinner buffet.

Smirking triumphantly, Jamie watched as the badger slowly made its way up the hill, silent as a ghost, going for the kill. The Efrafans, asleep, after celebrating their latest victory, were in for a big surprise. The boys were about to follow, but Speedwell held them back.

"No, wait until that lendri goes into a feeding frenzy; we also need to give them some time for the sentries to desert their posts before we make a run for the Honeycomb."

"We are going into that warren, swarming with those brutish Efrafans and now with a _lendri_ on the loose?" cried Hickory, "Have you all gone daft?" Beside him, his mate also shared his sentiments.

"I don't think I've been more terrified in my life," whispered Marigold, visibly trembling, "Did you see the size of those teeth…?" Speedwell however, ignoring their fear, kept watching the lendri as it disappeared over the summit, heading for the Honeycomb in attack. Any second now, it would be show time…

Suddenly, the air was filled with the cries of a rabbit being mauled to death. More shouts were heard, as the rest of the Efrafans sprang into action. The loud thumping signalled the sounding of an alarm, as someone bellowed, "Elil! Lendri within the perimeter! Patrol formations!"

Crawling up to the summit, the group saw all hell had broken loose up there. The lendri had snatched and killed one of the sentries in its path; the rest of the Efrafans, along with the aroused Owsla, had regrouped and fell upon the enemy with no fear. The angry badger managed to take down one of its attackers and maim several others but the Efrafans were too many. Soon, its furious growls had turned to agonising cries as the Owsla ripped the beast to shreds without mercy.

In the midst of all this confusion, Speedwell led his companions towards the entrance of the now unguarded Honeycomb. They had seen several officers, including Captain Campion, emerge when the alarm had been sounded; Robbins was nowhere to be seen, probably having remained below. Nonetheless, they would have to take their chances.

Dashing across the plain, towards the beech tree, they darted down the entrance, unnoticed by any of the Efrafans, currently preoccupied with the badger outside. The Honeycomb was a spacious chamber, like the one at Cowslip's warren, only with a more welcoming air about it – or would be, if the warren wasn't currently under Efrafan occupation, its real residents dead or held prisoner somewhere below…or so they thought.

Hurrying down a run leading deeper into the warren, towards the sleeping burrows, Speedwell led them to the edge of a gaping shaft, which he and his companions had discovered while digging their warren only a few days ago, only for their labour to be wasted when the Efrafans had come. Somewhere down there was the HAB, the old shelter where the last remnants of the British nation had sought refuge during the Apocalypse that had brought civilisation to an end long ago.

A sense of déjà vu swept over Jamie as he got his first glimpse of the place his father and the rest of Johnson's party had briefly called their new home. Glancing into one of the sleeping burrows, he saw it had been set up like a human dormitory, with three straw cots fashioned out of branches and duct-tape. Even now, he could almost see his father resting on that makeshift cot. Something sitting on a ledge on the wall beside one of the beds caught his eye.

It was a brown, leather wallet, which Jamie instantly recognised as is father's; the familiar faces of himself and his parents stared back at him from the family photo in the transparent front pocket, alongside the Royal Air Force I.D., driver's licence and credit cards, all bearing the name of Major James McEwen. He had finally reached his ultimate destination all right. Speedwell's furious muttering snapped him back to reality.

"Well, come on young bucko! We have no time to lose! And everybody keep your voices down!"

Shoving the wallet into his pocket, he hurried over to the shaft. Shining his flashlight downwards, he saw it went down at least three hundred feet; a high-textile rope, which Jamie recognised as part of the chopper's arsenal, trailed over the edge of the shaft all the way to the bottom. He could see light coming from some sort of opening at the bottom, supposedly leading into the facility deep in the bowels of the Down. Kenny paled at the idea of having to slide down into this abyss on a rope, much less parachute down the hole, but went along, realising there was no turning back now.

Jamie wasted no time; grabbing hold of the rope and retracting it, he secured the safety sling, which Johnson's party had fastened on the end to accommodate their own rabbit companions who couldn't climb ropes, around Speedwell, but leaving it slack enough for the buck to wriggle out without assistance as soon as he was back on firm ground. The Owsla rabbit was strangely calm as the boys swung him over the edge of the shaft in the sling, lowering him down to the HAB entrance.

Feeling the rope go slack as Speedwell found his footing on the bottom, they watched him, looking no bigger than a fly so far down, as he wormed his way out of the sling and called up to them that all was clear and to send the next one down. Marigold stepped forward next, looking a nervous wreck, but non-the-less determined. Jamie gave her a reassuring pat.

"Nothing to it, Marigold. Remember, just keep calm and don't look down; we'll do the rest." Nervously sliding into the sling, she squealed in terror as Jamie and Kenny lowered her over the edge, her heart pounding with fear of the long drop beneath her paws.

"No, please, I can't do this! I'll fall! Pull me back up!" She seemed about to struggle, which would have been a big mistake when hanging on the end of a rope in a loose sling, and Jamie had to shout to make himself heard.

"Don't move! Keep your eyes closed and don't move! You're almost there…" Unfortunately, his shouting for Marigold to get a grip on herself was a big mistake on his own part; suddenly, they were all caught off-guard by a shocked, high-pitched voice, which rang out from behind them.

"Ah-ha!"

It was Vervain, who, in contrast to his fellow officers, which had hurried to their posts when the alarm had been sounded, had remained hiding in his burrow until the danger would pass, and had heard them. Going to investigate, he had walked straight into them, ruining their opportunity of breaking in unnoticed.

"Come here, you cowardly scoundrel…!" roared Acorn, lunging for Vervain, to silence him, but the sly rabbit was too quick; in a flash he was gone, bolting up the run towards the exit, screaming at the top of his lungs for the Owsla.

"It's the Outsiders! They're here! Get back down here you fools! They've tricked you!"

Jamie cursed, "Come on, we have to keep moving. Celandine, you're next…!" But as he pulled on the rope to retract it for the next passenger, he found it was stuck; looking down, they saw Marigold was having trouble getting out of the sling, Speedwell struggling frantically to help her, and meanwhile, the Efrafans were only seconds away. He and Kenny could still switch to their backup plan and parachute down the shaft with two rabbits; only problem was, there were _three_ of them still stuck up here.

Acorn seemed to be thinking along those same lines, as he turned urgently to the boys, "Take Hickory and Celandine and go. I'll hold them off…!" Jamie looked terrified, realising he was looking at another suicide last stand, "No, let me help you…!"

"No, you can help our friends. And if you find Hazel-rah, tell him I died defending his name and that of El-ahrairah. Now go!" Without another word, he bolted up the run to meet the Efrafan Owsla as they stormed the Honeycomb for the intruders. The sounds of fighting were heard from the main chamber, filled with Acorn's growls and grunts of pain, indicating he was fighting a losing battle. Jamie desperately wanted to rush to his aid but the sight of Hickory and Celandine being left as sitting ducks on the edge of the shaft won out.

With nothing left to lose, he and Kenny grabbed their two remaining rabbit companions and strapped them into their parachute harnesses, preparing to jump. Both rabbits looked utterly terrified at the prospect, Hickory being the worst of all, struggling to wriggle out of his harness.

"No, I can't do this! I don't want to die…!"

"Oh, do shut up!" snapped Kenny, "It's either this or those dudes will make hamburger out of you…!" His voice caught in his throat as he stared down the deep shaft, breaking into a cold sweat. What if something went wrong? What if the chute didn't open? Jamie finished tightening the straps of his own chute, Celandine strapped to his chest, and turned to his friend.

"All right mate, just remember: jump out as far away from the wall as you can and drop; then pull on the rip cord on your left shoulder harness; if the chute doesn't open, pull on the red one on the other side. I'll go first and you follow as soon as you see me reach the bottom. Clear?"

"What if…?" Kenny tried to protest but Jamie didn't wait to hear the rest of it; taking a deep breath, he burst into a run and vanished over the edge. Looking down, Kenny saw the white, mushroom-shaped chute pop open, slowing down his friend's otherwise deadly fall. At that moment, the entire Efrafan Owsla came running down the run, in attack, Vervain in the lead. With no more time to spare, Kenny also burst into a run, and in another instant, was subjected to the unpleasant sensation of falling through empty air…

The falling sensation came as quite a shock to Jamie. Although his father had instructed him on how to use the chute in an emergency, he had never actually done it in practice, and most certainly not in an underground shaft. The instructions were pretty straightforward, but Jamie still didn't know what to expect. He had heard all sorts of horrifying stories of chutes that didn't open or opened too late. What if the shaft wasn't deep enough for a safe fall? What if the chute got snagged on the walls partway down, leaving him suspended in midair?

Time seemed to flow by in slow motion; he felt the air brushing against his torso like a fan, the bottom rushing up to meet him. Then, he felt a violent tug against his shoulders as the chute deployed. The jolt was so strong, for an instant Jamie thought he was soaring _upwards_, but then realised he was descending, and still going too fast. His cheap parachute, which wasn't designed to take the weight of a person carrying a load –or in this case, a giant rabbit –, was barely managing to support them. Before he knew what was happening, his feet slammed down on some flattened sheets of rusted metal and h-section, which was the pancaked elevator that once travelled up and down the shaft. An open access door in the wall led into a concrete chamber, illuminated by artificial lights, clearly a man-made construction in contrast to the Honeycomb above them. His legs aching like hell, making him feel like he'd driven his leg bones up into his pelvis, he barely had time to roll aside as Ken also came crashing down on his backside, a screaming Hickory strapped to his chest.

Groaning in pain, Jamie untangled himself from his parachute and got to his feet, as Speedwell and Marigold hurried over to help them. Releasing the shaky Celandine from her harness, he turned to help a swearing Ken free Hickory, who had wet himself all over him in fear. Marigold nuzzled her mate lovingly, while Ken nursed his bruised bottom, cursing about faulty parachutes and sissy passengers.

"You all right dude?" asked Jamie, helping a moaning Ken to his feet. The younger Shelton shook his head reassuringly, "No worse than one of my dear father's beatings when he'd come home drunk and not find his dinner ready on the table – which I might demonstrate to that blasted Hickory for this mess!" he groaned, cringing at the sight of his smelly, oversized jumper, now stained with rabbit urine.

"Everybody all right? Where is Acorn?" said Speedwell, taking a head count, only to discover his missing comrade. Before Jamie could explain, they were all caught by surprise as something fell from the top of the shaft and landed at their feet. They all gasped in horror as they recognised the broken and bloodied body of Acorn, whom the Efrafans had torn to shreds, the last twitch of life crossing his disfigured face. Staring into the dimness above, they heard the sinister voice of Vervain.

"_We know you're down there, outsiders! So you've finally decided to grace us with your presence. The General has been waiting for you. You might as well surrender now; there is no escape. Those who attempt to resist will suffer the same fate as your foolish friend who thought he could fight us. Make peace with Frith while you still can, outsiders!" _

"Kiss my arse!" sneered Ken, trying not to sound as afraid as he felt; the sight of Acorn's butchered body had crushed their spirit real bad. Vervain was right; there was no way out of the HAB, other than back through the Honeycomb, now swarming with Efrafans. It went without saying that there was no going back the way they had come in; their only hope was to find the rest of Speedwell's group, presumably held somewhere down here and then attempt to fight their way out.

"Come on chaps, we have to keep moving," the Owsla scout said grimly, drawing their attention away from Acorn's body. Although his firm Owsla discipline – already pushed to the limit as it was – prevented him from despairing at their latest loss, his anger for the injustice of it all only fuelled him with renewed strength and determination for revenge. Acorn had been a close friend of his and, to the bottom of his heart, Speedwell swore that those brutes who had done this – particularly Vervain – would be punished. And that meant keeping the others moving, so they could accomplish their mission, as little chances as they had.

Staying alert, the group of six noiselessly made their way out of the elevator shaft and into a corridor; the HAB was a typical military-style installation, with concrete walls, covered in porcelain tilling, grillwork flooring, and heavy piping everywhere, not unlike a Cold War-era fallout shelter. A thick layer of undisturbed dust coated everything, indicating a long period of abandonment, but otherwise, the place had been preserved in near-pristine condition over the centuries.

Although some of the ancient light fixtures had power restored, indicating someone had been down here recently, the place looked utterly deserted. It seemed Speedwell's guess had been correct; the Efrafans had no guards stationed down here, which was good news for them. Keeping their eyes peeled and their ears extended, Speedwell led them to a domed atrium at the end of the corridor, which seemed to be situated in the very heart of the facility, made up of balconies and catwalks leading up onto all the different levels. He gestured at a tower-like structure in the centre of the atrium, which had some sort of control centre perched on the top.

"That's where we saw the whole story of how our world came to be, in the form of those moving and talking pictures – what was it you called it again, Jamie?" asked Speedwell, as he told them the story of how they had discovered the HAB and all the surprises this dust hole held.

"A video log," said the boy, realising his friend was referring to the facility's database, which Dr Johnson and his father must have accessed to get all this information, "Did you say your ancestors were the result of some…freak experiment?"

"Well, Alan didn't quite describe it that way, but yes," Speedwell explained, "A former colleague of his called Drake, whom he knew from his own time, was the key man behind the rise of our world. We also learned that our species were actually meant to coexist together in harmony; it seems that Woundwort's ancestor, Hemlock started a revolt against your kind long ago, destroying all chances of any peaceful coexistence, and his family continue to wage war against anyone that doesn't submit to his dark rule to this day."

"That bullying buffoon we've been hearing all about is the reason that the world has gone to the dogs?" asked Kenny incredulously, finding it hard to believe that a single rabbit had been the undoing of the entire human race, whose work still persisted by being handed it down from descendant to descendant throughout all these centuries. It just seemed a little too far fetched. Speedwell however thought otherwise as he sternly turned to Kenny.

"I'll let you know young duffer, that the reason we are now at war with Woundwort is because of Alan and McEwen's unexpected arrival. Their presence here poses a grave threat to his power, and because they're our friends and allies, he won't rest until he's killed us all and buried the truth forever…"

"And yet you still defend this ithe who is bound to lead you to the Black Rabbit of Inle by bringing Woundwort's wrath down upon you?" asked Hickory incredulously. As far as he was concerned, any logical rabbit would stay well clear of such trouble. But that was the wrong thing to say as Speedwell rounded on Hickory in anger.

"For the record chum, I'll let you know that I'd rather die defending the truth El-ahrairah – and Drake for that matter – gave their lives for, than submit to the lies and tyranny of a crack-brained slave driver! If it hadn't been for that lunatic scoundrel Robbins, we would have had an advantage over the enemy now…"

"Speaking of Robbins," said Jamie, suddenly remembering, "Where could he be? Why wasn't he up there with Vervain and the rest of his cronies? I am sure I saw him earlier…" The others seemed just as perplexed at this strange development as he, yet none of them realised they were not quite alone down here…

Meanwhile, up in the Honeycomb, the Efrafan Owsla stood staring down the shaft where the infiltrators had escaped. Although they had them trapped, none of them could climb down the rope without a human's help, and with Robbins suddenly not around, it made it impossible for them to go in pursuit of the outsiders. Campion had returned from checking on the casualties left behind by the badger.

"We drove that accursed lendri away," he said, "But we lost Thorn and Thistle; three more are also pretty bad off. The outsiders tricked us; that lendri was just a distraction…"

"They must be mad, the lot of them!" said Corporal Moss, Campion's aid, "Why would they want to risk breaking in, after we drove them out? They were free and clear…"

"Fool!" shouted Vervain, "Can't you see? They intend to free their captured friends and retake their warren…" Campion, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and realising they could be vulnerable now, without the whole Owsla, turned to his comrade.

"How many prisoners remain below?"

"Not many sir," said Moss, "Most were moved to Efrafa earlier this evening. However, most of the Owsla were also recalled to go along as prisoner escorts. We have barely enough rabbits left to divide into four Patrols. And for all we know, the leader ithe might still be out there with that outsider Chief Hazel-rah and Thlayli and…"

"Then the outsiders are planning a counter-attack and we are vulnerable!" screeched Vervain in alarm, "If they free their remaining friends, they could attack us full force…!" His mind suddenly jumped to Jamie's group, "We have to catch those ithe brats! They might lead us to the rest of the outsiders, once and for all! Some torture should do it…"

"Is that really necessary, Captain Vervain?" protested Coltsfoot, one of the youngest troopers, out on his first Wide Patrol, selected by Campion himself, "They are children after all…" Vervain however, always ruthless in the extreme, rounded on the young Owsla scout.

"They are just lowly filth, lower than that traitor Hyzenthlay!" he spat, "And if you, _commoner_, are feeling any sympathy for outsider filth, I'll be glad to recommend to the General that he cancel your Owsla admission on account of sloppiness and sympathies for the enemy…" Coltsfoot instantly fell silent; his admission into the Owsla had been a Frith-sent blessing, and the prospect of reverting back to being a commoner – or more accurately a slave – terrified him. Campion however, disgusted by Vervain's treatment of the new recruit, and having the authority to talk back, stepped in.

"That's enough Vervain!" He turned to Coltsfoot, "Lad, I realise it's hard, but those outsiders are still a threat to us and we have to respect the General's wishes. Hopefully, those boys will realise they are out of their league and cooperate without forcing us to resort to any violence…" Coltsfoot almost smiled in relief. Vervain however looked furious, green with envy and spite, at Campion always being more popular and respected than him.

"How you ever became Captain of Owsla Campion, I will never know. Debating with snivelling recruits, rather than enforcing proper discipline and obedience, among your countless other flaws." His expression darkened as he whispered in a softer voice, so the others couldn't hear, "I know you had something to do with the outsiders escaping from Efrafa in the first place. There was something between you, otherwise they wouldn't have let you walk out of their hideout alive. Prey I can never prove it to the General, or your popularity might just take a turn for the worst…"

The onlookers, who had been watching the argument, half-expected their Captain to lose his temper and strike their Head of Owslafa, but Campion merely chuckled at Vervain's exasperation, as he coolly replied, "My loyalty lies with Efrafa and its people Vervain. Maybe I am doing so much better than you simply because I am everything you are not." Several onlookers sniggered, much to Vervain's annoyance, "Now then, if you've finished acting like a spoiled, immature kitten, where is Robbins…?" The answer to that question came as they saw someone tug on the rope from below…

Jamie's group made their way through this underground maze of corridors and compartments, looking for any sign of Speedwell's captured companions, which they'd overheard Vervain say were being held somewhere down here, awaiting transport to Efrafa. Dreading the thought of how many were left by now – those already taken to Efrafa were as good as dead – they combed the place, room by room, finding nothing but dust, cobwebs and derelict equipment.

"Dad! Dr Johnson!" Jamie called, shining his flashlight into the semi-darkness, "Can anyone hear me? Hallo!"

"Nildrohein! Strawberry!" called Marigold, "Are you here?" No answer.

"This is hopeless," said Kenny, "This place is a maze; it's like looking for a needle in a haystack. It will take forever this way." They pressed on.

Crossing through another section of the facility, they came to a workshop, where they found an interesting surprise. In contrast to all the other compartments they had seen so far, which had been coated with centuries' worth of undisturbed dust, this room showed signs of being recently use.

A worktable had been wiped clean of dust and an interesting semi-complete assembly lay spread atop it; at first glance it looked like a bunch of curiously cut solar blankets lashed together with electric cables, which in turn were wired to some sort of DC/AC transformer unit and voltage adaptor, of no apparent use.

Examining the contraption more closely, Jamie realised that these solar blankets were actually solar cells; tucked beneath the foil were hundreds of tiny cells which, when exposed to the sun, produced electricity to power portable equipment during field operations. Lying in a pile beside the table were the stripped frames of the portable solar panels Robbins has cannibalised for this device. Glancing at some scrap paper that the man had been using to draw on, he saw the crude blueprint of an aircraft. Suddenly, he realised it was non other than his glider, currently sitting outside at the foot of the Down, dead as a doornail.

Studying the sketch, Jamie realised this strange assembly was meant to be wrapped around the wings and fuselage of the glider and the power unit jelly-rigged to the motor assembly, to pump some juice into the dead batteries. Robbins meant to jump-start the glider and get it airborne again! Ken, who had also been studying the diagram over his friend's shoulder, shrugged his shoulders.

"Why the heck would he want to get that thing back in the air again…?" Suddenly, the familiar cocking sound of a loaded gun made them turn round in surprise. Robbins stood there, flanked by Campion and Vervain, brandishing his revolver at the boys. Jamie and Kenny froze.

"So, we meet again young Mr McEwen," said the man in a cold voice, staring at each of the boys in turn, "My apologies for such a rude welcoming but I had hoped we would never meet again." He turned to Kenny, "And young Mr Shelton of course. I was wondering what had become of you. I hear you always were a great disappointment to your father…" Kenny glared at Robbins but said nothing, wearily glancing at the weapon clutched firmly in the man's hand, as if about to finish them both off at any second.

"What are you doing Mr Robbins?" asked Jamie, trying to keep his voice level, "Why are you with this riff-raff?"

"Silence, you little filth!" snapped Vervain angrily, "How dare a lesser being like you talk like that about your superiors…!" Robbins however ignored Vervain and explained as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Making a brilliant fresh start with a new beginning," he said, "After your father and Johnson deprived me of my only ticket home, I have been stuck with General Woundwort, so I figured I might as well make the most of it. And currently, my new career is booming!" Behind him, Campion rolled his eyes at Robbins' ego. Hickory and Marigold shrunk back in fear, while Speedwell and Celandine glared at the Efrafans. Celandine in particular had an expression like an angry cat, as she glared back at those who had murdered her lover.

"You miserable wretches killed Ash! You hrakamarlin…!" she snarled, about to spring at Vervain, who run to hide behind Campion, who smirked at him for being scared by a mere doe. But Jamie held her back before she could strike and probably find herself on the receiving end of Robbins' revolver,

"And what exactly do you want with us?" asked Kenny, now also visibly trembling, realising this time they were in deep trouble. Campion cleared his throat.

"That, will be up for General Woundwort to decide," he said firmly, "If you come quietly, then nobody need be harmed…"

"Only so you can tell the General the whereabouts of the rest of our outsider friends," sneered Vervain maliciously, "Mind you, if you decide not to talk, we can always torture each of you in turn until you break…" But Campion clawed him over the ear to silence him, before his threats could stir up a panic among their prisoners. He turned to Jamie, speaking in a friendlier tone.

"Young one, for your friends' sake, I strongly suggest you come along quietly. You have my word that nobody will be harmed unless provoked. The least resistance is well appreciated by the General and he will hear what you have to say when he arrives tomorrow. I will see to that myself. What do you say?"

Although Jamie was sure Vervain's threats might come to pass, regardless if they cooperated or not, he realised they had no choice at this point. Robbins had them at gunpoint; even if they could somehow overpower him and the two Efrafan officers, there were still dozens of them waiting for them above ground. There was no escape. The thought of what had happened to Acorn got the better of him and he slowly raised his hands in surrender…

"Enjoy your last night outsiders! The Death Pit of Efrafa awaits you tomorrow. Well, what are you doodling about, you slut of a doe? Inside!" Vervain cuffed the staggering Celandine over the head, forcing her inside a sealed compartment along with Jamie and the others, which was to serve as their prison cell for the night. While the two rabbits guarded the door, Robbins took a moment to fleece the boys, confiscating Jamie's knife and anything else that they could use to escape, but leaving him his flashlight and his father's wallet.

Without another word, the three captors left, closing the steel door behind them. Jamie heard a deadbolt being slipped into place and the sound of their fading footsteps, as Robbins, Campion and Vervain left to report that the infiltrators had been caught and secured.

The group turned to survey their small prison; the room appeared to have been some sort of utility room, filled with different pipes and valves and control panels. There was no other apparent way out other than the locked door save for an air duct in a pipe above their heads; but the opening was fitted was a solid steel grillwork, which couldn't be opened by hand. Robbins had chosen the spot well; they weren't going anywhere, whether they liked it or not.

Misery and despair began to set in as the group contemplated their grim fate. A sobbing Marigold was huddled close to Hickory, who seemed near hysterical. Kenny was pacing nervously back and forth, like a caged animal seeking an escape route.

"I don't know about you guys, but I don't want to go to this Efrafa place," he said, nearly pulling his hair out in agony.

"Did you hear that rabbit talk?" cried Hickory, "What they do to prisoners in Efrafa? They torture them or they kill them…!"

"Shut up, you are scaring everyone!" snapped Speedwell, somehow managing to retain his calm. But Hickory didn't seem to hear him as he continued sobbing, dreading the dawn, when the Efrafans would return to get them.

"What were we thinking? We've thrown our lives away! Cowslip was right," he sobbed miserably, "Now, we'll all become slaves or they'll kill us!"

Jamie sat with Celandine, trying to offer her whatever little care he could. She, in particular, felt the worst of all; not only had she lost Ash, but now was going to give birth to kittens, which would be growing up to be slaves to the Efrafans, or minions of Woundwort. Suddenly, staring into her eyes, he gasped.

Celandine's eyes were horribly bloodshot and puffy; but it wasn't the result of her crying her heart out. Looking carefully, Jamie saw her corneas were turning glassy, as if the result of an injury or illness. Putting his hand to her forehead, he saw she was burning up with a fever. And all these symptoms looked awfully like…

"Oh gosh, not again!" he muttered, realising the awful truth that Celandine was infected with Myxomatosis, which she must have picked up from Nose-in-the-Air back at Cowslip's warren, when she had helped them tend to the sick rabbit, despite knowing she, unlike humans, was vulnerable to the disease. This explained her constantly declining health she had been experiencing all day, but had kept quiet about it. Now the disease had gained a firm hold in her system and was attacking her full-force.

Jamie fell silent, not wanting to give his already desperate companions anything more to worry about. But Speedwell, who could spot trouble faster than anybody, noticed and was on his feet in an instant. Having lost both his parents to the White Blindness back at Sandleford as a youngster, he could recognise the most feared disease known to rabbits when he saw it.

"Look out! Get away from her, all of you!" he bellowed. The others leapt to their feet in alarm and turned to look at the sick Celandine. After their previous encounter with the White Blindness at Cowslip's warren, they all realised the trouble they were in: trapped in a cell with a contagious disease-carrier, and with absolutely nowhere to run. But what did it matter anymore? If they were going to die tomorrow anyway, then why should the prospect of dying by White Blindness worry them?

"This is just wonderful," said Hickory, "If the Efrafans don't kill us, the White Blindness will. Could things get any worse?" Jamie sunk to the floor, wiping a tear from his eye. So this was the end of the road for him; to die in the hands of those savage Efrafans and that scoundrel Robbins. After coming all this way, his search for his father had been in vain; Ash, Nightshade, Hannah, Willow, Nose-in-the-Air, Snitter, Acorn, all of them had died for nothing, and now the rest of his friends would follow…all because of him.

As he lay against the wall, wondering how fate could possibly be so cruel, his eyes darted to the air vent on the ceiling; staring through the grillwork, he thought he saw a tiny figure on the other side, staring back at him through the blades. Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him in his grief, he blinked several times but the figure didn't disappear, as she continued waving excitedly at him, trying to get his attention. But Jamie only continued to stare until she spoke in a familiar voice.

"Jamie, can't you see me? I am back!"

The boy's voice stuck in his throat at the voice as he leapt to his feet and hurried over to the vent. Sure enough, staring through the grillwork, he saw it was indeed Hannah, alive and well, having somehow survived the weir. Jamie's sadness instantly turned to joy; everything was still far from over for them all.

**Author's note:** Sorry about the delay but I have working on my other fanfics as well. Did you really think I was going to kill off such a beloved character as Hannah? Originally, I had considered bringing Snitter back as well, but then thought it would spoil the drama too much. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	19. Chapter 19 Into the Air Ducts

The unexpected arrival of Hannah instantly had the group on their feet with excitement; one moment they were in a hopeless situation, prisoners to the enemy, their future grim, but now their hopes had been momentarily restored. Hannah, it turned out, had survived the weir by clinging inside the air pocket of the overturned raft, which had miraculously remained intact after capsizing and continued drifting on downstream until it had been washed up onto the riverbank further downriver.

Finding herself alone, and thinking her friends had all drowned, she had wondered around aimlessly for hours, lost and with no idea where to go; she would never be able to find Watership Down on her own, small as she was, and she couldn't exactly return to Thinial anymore either. Then she had spotted a squad of mean-looking rabbits, which matched the description of the Efrafans, leading along a caravan of prisoners, towards their warren. By eavesdropping, she had realised, to her utmost dismay, that they were the Watershipers, which the Efrafans had captured after seizing their warren.

She had tried following them, hoping they would lead her to Efrafa, where the rest of the Watershipers were presumably being held, but she hadn't gotten very far. Whilst crossing over a deep canyon on a log bridge into Efrafan territory, suddenly, a catastrophe, the likes of which she had never witnessed before had befallen the group. Who would have expected that the strange 'shiny cylinder' – which, unbeknownst to her, had been one of the canisters of nitroglycerine the Efrafans had stolen from the HAB on Robbins' instruction – one of the guards had been carrying strapped to his back, to suddenly burst into a massive ball of fire.

Several rabbits, including some of the prisoners, had barely made it across the bridge before it had collapsed, sending those who hadn't been annihilated by the blast plummeting into the river below, to their deaths. One of the Efrafan officers – Captain Campion - left stranded outside the border had been ordered to double back to the 'captured warren' immediately and put the rest of their troops stationed there on alert, until a new bridge could be set up, and reinforcements could be dispatched to transport the rest of the prisoners.

Unable to help those held in Efrafa anymore, she had followed Campion instead, who had led her all the way to Watership Down. Although it was clear by now that Hazel-rah's group hadn't fared well, from what she had been able to make from the escort guards' talking, there were still some prisoners left, held in their own warren – which wasn't their anymore -, waiting to be deported. Although fully aware it could mean suicide going there, Hannah had nothing left to lose; her only hope was to try and rescue the remaining Watershipers before they were all moved to Efrafa, where they'd be beyond help, just like the rest of their friends.

Upon reaching Watership Down however, she had walked straight into the midst of the havoc Jamie's group had stirred up with the lendri, just in time to see her friends, alive and well, infiltrate the captured Honeycomb, apparently on the same reckless escapade she had been intending. In the confusion, she had managed to make her way down into the HAB unnoticed, just in time before the place had been ordered into lockdown. With the Efrafan Owsla sweeping the place, chasing after Jamie's group, she had barely managed to evade capture by slipping away into the air ducts, which had eventually led her to her friends' prison…

"We thought you were dead!" exclaimed Jamie, reaching through the grillwork with his fingers and caressing Hannah's small head, which the mouse accepted with pleasure, "We lost Ash and Nightshade out on the plains… It's so good to see you, Hannah!" In spite of their joyful reunion however, it quickly dawned on them that they were still prisoners to the Efrafans, with time quickly running out for all of them. And meanwhile, Celandine's declining health was becoming another major issue to consider… They had to escape this place and fast! But how?

Jamie tried forcing the grillwork open but it wouldn't budge; and there was nothing in their makeshift cell strong enough to use as a lever. Hannah tried undoing the nut bolts from her side, on Jamie's instruction, but they were too tight for her small hands. What they needed was a screwdriver to get the vent open. Jamie examined the tight screws; his Swiss Army multitool would do nicely, but it was currently in Robbins' possession, no good to him when he needed it the most. Unless, of course, someone stole it back for him; someone small and undetectable…

"Hannah, I have a little job for you," he said, turning to his little friend, and whispering instructions in her ear, in case there was a guard outside listening. Although it was foolish – not to mention risky in the extreme - to send her anywhere near Robbins and those brutish Efrafans, who were likely to kill her on sight if they caught her, it was their only hope. Surprisingly enough, Hannah volunteered whole-heartedly, in spite of Jamie's insistence that nobody would hold it against her if she didn't want to take the risk.

"You think I'm going to just leave you here until those rascals return to finish you off? Those poor rabbits I saw out there were being marched off to certain death…!" she said incredulously, "Not a chance!" Jamie smiled at his little friend's determination to put her neck on the line, to get them out of this death trap. Speedwell, who had gone tharn when hearing about those prisoners being transported to Efrafa to be killed, spoke up.

"Was there a rabbit called Hazel-rah among them? Or Bigwig? Or Fiver? Any of these names sound familiar?" he asked. Hannah shook her head. "No, I only remember seeing a doe called Hyzenthlay," she said, struggling to remember, "And another rabbit called Hawkbit, I think. There were no ithel among them either…" Jamie sighed in relief, glad to know that his father had not been one of them…unless, of course, he had been part of another prisoner transport group.

After giving instructions to Hannah and wishing her luck, the group settled down, hoping she wouldn't be too late, or rather, hoping she would make it back at all. If she got caught, not only would they kill her, but also they might take it out on them, perhaps torture them for any other secret accomplices they might have. Regardless of Campion Campion's promise that nobody would be harmed, the words of that sadistic rabbit Vervain had made it clear that the Efrafans were anything but merciful. It was simply a matter of either postponing the inevitable, or giving it their best shot and trying to escape this nightmare.

Turning to Celandine, Jamie saw that she wasn't doing very well at all; her fever had gone even higher, leaving her barely conscious, the Myxomatosis having gained a hold on her system and attacking her full force. Now it was only a matter of time before the virus caused permanent damage to her eyesight and sense of smell, leaving her to die a slow, lingering death. Jamie looked at his companions, thinking; although it seemed foolish even to suggest it, he couldn't be so cruel, not when help was literally within reach.

"If Hannah can get us out of here, then we should try and find some help for Celandine before we make a break for it." He walked over to consult a plan of the HAB on the wall; tracing his finger from the red dot pinpointing their location in the small utility room, along passageways and down stairwells, he found a room marked 'Veterinarian Infirmary' on Level 3A, two storeys beneath them, "See, there is an animal medical bay, probably for the livestock they kept down here…" Unfortunately, his companions were all but keen on the idea.

"Absolutely not!" shouted Hickory, "We'd be lucky to get out of here alive as it is! We made a big mistake coming here in the first place. Besides, we can't take her with us like that…" Beside him, Marigold wanted to say something more sympathetic but then decided against it, probably not wanting to waste her words on, what most of them thought to be, a hopeless case. The boys looked appalled.

"Why you miserable, selfish…!" hissed Kenny, furious at the thought of leaving the ailing doe behind while she was still alive, simply because she would be a liability to them all, "How could you say such a thing…?" But Speedwell, who knew how to be more tactful, took the boys aside.

"Young buckos, you do realise that even if we do get out of this, Celandine will have to stay behind. She wouldn't get very far in this condition, not to mention she would be a great danger to us all. The White Blindness makes no distinction between victims…"

"But we can't just leave her here to die!" protested Kenny, who had come to like Celandine like a foster mother, "She's pregnant…" Speedwell's face fell in silent sadness, yet remained firm on his decision.

"I am truly sorry lad, but, but, as much as I hate to say this, we can't risk it. It wouldn't do her much good anyway; once a rabbit contracts White Blindness, it's already too late. My parents both died this way, along with hrair of their friends who gave in to their sympathy and tried to help them, only to also get infected in the process. We can't risk exposing ourselves to the plague…"

"My point exactly," said Jamie, thinking up another way to make Speedwell see reason, "As it stands, you've all already been exposed to the Myxomatosis, possibly even infected; anyone could start getting sick next, any time now…" This last sentence instantly had the entire group on the verge of a panic.

"Oh Frith, we're all going to die!" cried Marigold, as she huddled up close to her mate, sobbing miserably, thinking all was lost. But Jamie reassured her.

"That is why we need to get to that infirmary. This is the only place where we can hope to find a cure for this bug; and it has to be done before the disease enters its final stages," he said, stressing the fact that unless they administered Nobivac – the Myxomatosis vaccine he knew from his mother - soon, the disease would cause irreversible damage to Celandine's eyesight and sense of smell. They'd be no point in this, if they were left to babysit a helpless, blind rabbit.

Realising Jamie's argument was sound, and not willing to risk losing another rabbit to the White Blindness out there, Speedwell finally decided it was worth a shot and gave in. This, in turn, brought them to the next question at hand.

"Okay, suppose we do make it out of here with our skins still in one piece," said Kenny, "Where exactly do we go? All this time, we've been struggling to make it this far, and now we're just setting off again? To _where_?" Jamie looked at his friend, thinking hard.

"Anywhere," he said, "We make it out of here, and then get as far away from here as we can, where the Efrafans will never find us." His mind flashed back to that plane they had seen earlier that afternoon, out on the meadows, "Hopefully, some of my father's group also managed to escape from Efrafa; we can still find them…maybe." Although hardly a sound plan, at least it was something.

They sat, waiting anxiously for Hannah, hoping she wouldn't let them down. Kenny placed Celandine's head on his lap, urging her to hold on just a little longer, as he tenderly poured sips of cognac from the hipflask he had found in the time capsule down her throat, to relieve her suffering. Jamie glanced up at the grillwork where he had last seen his little friend, wondering how she was doing. _Hurry Hannah, please hurry…_

Meanwhile, Hannah was making her way along another air duct like one of the mice of NIMH, trying to navigate the HAB's AC system. Making her way along another vent overlooking the interior of the control room, she glanced through a broken grillwork and saw Robbins and Vervain conversing alone. A collection of books and papers lay strewn all over the disused chart table before them.

"…It seems the human race didn't destroy its treasures after all. It merely hid them away in safe havens around the globe, called the Crypts of Civilisation," Robbins was saying, whatever it was he was talking about, "We may have discovered something other than a 700-year old bunker filled with cobwebs and junk after all…" Hannah suddenly noticed Jamie's Swiss Army knife, protruding from the pocket of Robbins' jacket, which lay tucked on the back of one of the rotating chairs.

"The legacy of all humanity," gloated Vervain, a hungry look in his eyes, "Imagine, all the secrets of their power, hidden away from the weak and the worthless all this time, almost as if waiting for the General to come along and claim them someday! And soon, it will all be ours! Why, we will be harnessing the power of Frith himself…!" The distasteful conversation was interrupted however by two guards standing at attention outside the door, announcing that Coltsfoot had arrived with an urgent message.

Cursing at being interrupted by a 'lowly commoner', one who was already in his bad books nonetheless, Vervain turned and bellowed at the young trouper, standing at attention in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter, "Well, _what is it_? Can't you see we're busy, you fool?!"

Cringing, Coltsfoot explained, "Begging your pardon sir, but the watch at the shaft reports Captain Campion has returned with the General. You better come at once." Although utterly annoyed at being interrupted from - unbeknownst to Hannah – their deciphering of Dr Drake's journal with the secrets of the future world, neither Robbins or Vervain dared object; Woundwort expected Owsla formalities to be observed at all times, under penalty of demotion, including formal greetings, when all officers present would line up and salute whenever he entered a burrow – or in this case an old human bunker.

They hurried out, Robbins leaving his jacket, which was too warm to wear indoors, hanging on the chair. Hannah seized the chance. Using one of the fluorescent light fixtures hanging from the ceiling to swing down from the vent, she hurried over to the chair, going for the knife, all the while glancing nervously over her shoulder at the door, in case someone came back and caught her here.

Sliding out the beautiful gadget from the pocket, straining with its weight, she hurryingly carried it across the control room over her shoulder, eager to be gone from this place now that she had what she came for. Then came another problem: although she could climb back up to the air duct on the ceiling easily – her agile body being adequate for the most amazing acrobatics -, she couldn't do it when laden down with the heavy knife she was carrying over her shoulder. And she couldn't go back to her friends without it either.

Looking around frantically, she spotted a length of loose wire torn from one of the dismantled panels, lying on the floor. Remembering how Jamie always improvised everything he needed using anything available, she figured it was the best moment as any to follow his example. Securing one end of the wire around her waist and the other end through the key ring on the knife, she climbed back up into the open vent. Then, heaving against the wire, she began pulling the knife up after her. It was nearly there, when suddenly, she heard voices approaching.

"…One of my best squadrons annihilated by that _weapon thing_ of yours, leaving us trapped in our own warren; then the outsider ringleaders escape; and now Campion tells me you've got nothing to show for it?" a deep, sinister voice was saying, "Well, Robbins, my patience is running out on you…"

Glancing down at the door, she saw Robbins and Vervain return, escorted by Captain Campion, Coltsfoot, and another ferocious-looking rabbit with the most horrific appearance imaginable, whom she figured, had to be the infamous General Woundwort she and her friends had been hearing so much about. The evil Efrafan dictator furiously rounded on Robbins. Apparently, he was very angry about that mishap Hannah had witnessed earlier today.

"You do realise that you almost got us all killed today? That thing could have gone off right inside Efrafa… You better explain yourself!" True, Robbins had known this would happen, having secretly tempered with the canisters before sending them on their way, although he had hoped it would have been right in the heart of Efrafa, which would have annihilated Woundwort and his key Owsla and Owslafa officers, all in one go, leaving him to assume command of the remaining troopers stationed here. Unfortunately, that was not meant to be…not by a long shot.

Ever since Alan and some of their group had escaped from Efrafa, the General had been pressuring him hard, making him desperate to find a way to escape – which was why he had been repairing Jamie's glider in secret -, or otherwise get rid of that monstrous rabbit he now called his leader.

"I am afraid General, that was an unfortunate accident," he explained, somehow managing to remain calm, quickly thinking up a good excuse to appease the General and cover up his blotched-up assassination attempt, "I had outlined to officer Charlock precise instructions and safety rules. He chose to be careless, so the entire wretched episode was his fault. Simple as that."

While an Efrafan commoner making such a bold accusation against one of the General's best officers would mean arrest for treason, and while Woundwort suspected Robbins might be playing him false, his 'ally' was currently too valuable to him, if he was to fulfil his ancestors' dream of acquiring humanity's long lost legacy. He surveyed Robbins for a few minutes, his single red eye like that of a snake's having cornered a rat, deciding whether or not to strike.

"Very well, I will take your word for it this time," Woundwort finally said, yet the menacing tone in his voice, making it clear that any further 'mishaps' and he would be made to answer to, not going amiss to Robbins. "Now then, tell me, what is this I hear about you having captured that young ithe from Cowslip's warren…?

Hannah however didn't wait to hear the rest; heaving Jamie's multitool over her shoulder, she hurried back the way she had come. Woundwort had arrived early and would soon be calling upon her friends locked up downstairs, to deal with them. She had to hurry!

Meanwhile, up in the control room, Robbins, Vervain and Campion had finished giving their report to the General, explaining how Jamie's group had attempted to infiltrate their outpost using an attacking lendri as a distraction – resulting in the deaths of the two Owsla sentries in the process -, and how they had managed to detain them before they could cause any further trouble.

"Outstanding," said Woundwort, "So, we have a visitor come to pay us a call; one who might be able to lead us to the rest of our escaped outsiders. Now then, time to greet our guests and outline to them their rights. Bring me the boy!" Vervain smiled nastily at this, but Campion frowned; Woundwort's definition of 'outlining a prisoner his rights' was another way of saying, 'either corporate peacefully and stay alive or be coaxed under torture'. Either way, it always ended badly; those who feared Woundwort were only allowed to live to be slaves, whilst those who dared defy him were killed with no exceptions.

Campion felt his heart sink at the thought of Hazel-rah's group, whom he had secretly befriended, now held back in Efrafa, dreading what the General had in store for them. Woundwort wasn't known for his patience; how long before one of them gave up the location of their Chief and their human protector – wherever they had fled to - under torture? He already knew that that rabbit Silverweed, whose psychic powers had come to his mad Chief's attention, was going to be used as an instrument of war, to forcefully extract information from prisoners' minds…

Those outsiders, who had helped him see the error of his ways, and presented Efrafa with a chance of escaping the dark path of war and tyranny Woundwort was paving for them, were paying the price for his insane Chief's cruelty; and now these boys, who had nothing to do with this, were next. And after he had promised them that they wouldn't be harmed… Ever since he had made that secret pledge to save his people from slavery and oppression, he had been endlessly tormented by his inability to live up to his promise.

When his outsider friends had been captured, he had considered turning to some of his closest Owsla comrades, and enlisting their help to start a rebellion against Woundwort. But the sense of fear for the General, which lingered in the hearts of everyone under his rule – whether it was officer or slave -, not to mention, Vervain was now watching his every move, hoping to catch him in the act, made it impossible. If he even tried talking to anyone, his secret would soon leak out and that would be the end of his career, which would do neither him nor the outsiders any good whatsoever…

Downstairs, Hannah had returned to her friends with the news that Woundwort had arrived and was coming for them. Jamie and Kenny wasted no time and got to work undoing the screws, stuck fast after all these years, which held the grillwork in place. Working frantically, they were almost done, when they heard footsteps outside the door.

Hurryingly making sure the grillwork was still firmly fixed in place, showing no signs that it was coming loose, and hiding the screws they had removed in the shadows under a pipe, the group assumed neutral positions, trying not to appear too conspicuous. At that moment the door swung open, and their captors entered. Vervain looked extremely gleeful.

"Good news, scum," he sneered, his sickening expression chilling, "The General has arrived and is waiting…to deal with you face-to-face!" Robbins drew his gun.

"All right, you boy, come with us!" he barked, gesturing at Jamie to walk over to him. The thirteen-year-old felt his blood curdle; were they marching him out to kill him or torture him for information he didn't have? Speedwell stepped forward, "If you have any honour, you leave the boy out of this! I will talk to Woundwort…" But Vervain cuffed him hard across the face, sending him sprawling on the floor with a bloodied nose.

"Don't you talk back to us, you filthy outsider!" he shrieked, spitting down at Speedwell, "We are the ones who decide who is to speak and when! Honour, huh? Just another trait of weakling simpletons! Here, it is only _power_ that matters!" However, in the midst of Vervain's insane ranting, Jamie seized the opportunity to pass his pocketknife to Kenny behind their backs, mouthing to him to get the others out himself. Kenny seemed to want to protest but thankfully held his tongue as they marched his friend out.

"You walk in front of me boy, and no tricks, or you'll be spitting gum out through your forehead!" Robbins warned Jamie, shoving him forward, Campion leading the way. Vervain paused for a moment, glancing at the rest of the prisoners suspiciously, almost as if sensing they were up to something. But seeing nothing out of the ordinary – including the sick Celandine lying under Kenny's jacket -, he turned and followed his associates out, Robbins slamming the door behind them and bolting it securely.

"Come on you guys, we have no time to lose!" said Kenny, hastily getting back to work on the grillwork, the footsteps of their captors fading away outside. He struggled with a particularly stubborn screw, firmly jammed from age, "Come on, give, you little motherf-…"

"What about Jamie?" asked Marigold, glancing in the direction of the door, where they had taken their young leader.

"Trust me, I've got a plan," said Kenny, without looking up from his work. _I least I hope I do…_

Robbins, Vervain and Campion led Jamie upstairs to the control room. Robbins roughly shoved the boy through the door; Jamie cringed as he came face to face with the very same rabbit Alan Johnson had met under similar circumstances, not so long ago. Woundwort's monstrous and utterly revolting appearance, with his tar-black fur and mismatched eyes – one white and sightless, the other a glowing red orb of evil -, for an instant had Jamie petrified, wondering if he had just walked into a living nightmare. And he had!

He was snapped out of his trance however by a painful cuff against his bicep from behind, sending him down on his knees, nursing his leg painfully, "Ow! What did you do that for, you…!"

"Learn to bow low when standing in the General's presence!" growled Vervain viciously, as if Jamie had openly insulted him rather than Woundwort, "Staring at Him as if he's a lowly simpleton like you… Where are your manners, boy? Then again, what can one expect from the likes of you…" This time however it wasn't Campion who cut off Vervain's racist remarks, but Woundwort.

"That will do Captain Vervain. I am sure our young friend gets the message," muttered the evil dictator coolly, motioning to his Captains and Robbins to step outside, to give them some privacy. Vervain seemed hesitant to leave his Chief alone with the human.

"But Sire, surely someone looking out for your safety would be best? If you recall, ithel are cunning and dangerous! The last time you requested a private audience with the likes of him, he caught you by surprise and…" Before he could finish his sentence however, Woundwort rounded on him in a fit of rage.

"Silence Vervain! Out now, all of you, and no interruptions, or I'll kill you!"

The one thing that Woundwort hated most in life was failure, especially when it was of his own doing, going to extreme lengths to cover any such incident up, either by burying the truth, or punishing those responsible. One such incident had been his failure to take over Sandleford several years prior, losing his one eye in the process, instead resorting to using White Blindness in retaliation. Likewise, the rabbit responsible for that failure – Campion's late father, Captain Hedge – had been executed for his treachery, but the truth twisted round, making it seem as if he had been killed in the line of duty, fighting hostile outsiders - and protecting Woundwort's reputation.

That failure had not come close however to when he had met Alan Johnson face-to-face; not only had that miserable human known all of his secrets, but also - as much as Woundwort hated to admit it even to himself – had proven to be a threat to everything his ancestors had struggled to achieve. Caught by surprise, Woundwort had narrowly escaped dying by Johnson's hand – an attempt that Robbins had accidentally thwarted. It was then, for the first time ever, that Woundwort had come to realise that even his superior strength and colossal Owsla were still vulnerable. The only way to eliminate that threat was to track down that escaped human and each and every one of his comrades at all costs, and eliminate them without mercy. And if this boy knew anything of their whereabouts, he would get it out of him, one way or another.

Jamie cringed as Woundwort fixed his unbending gaze on him, his sinister stare so cold and menacing, that, for an instant, he thought the temperature in the room had plummeted several degrees. Any second now, he thought Woundwort was going to raise one of his gigantic paws and kill him, but he didn't. Instead he spoke in a softer, but no less chilling, tone of voice.

"Well, young ithe, I believe introductions are in order. I am General Woundwort, leader of the Efrafan dominions, and master of these lands, at your service. Welcome to my domain!" However Jamie didn't return the 'friendly' greeting, having seen enough to know that Woundwort was only toying with him like a child, and he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction so easily. The Efrafan dictator frowned slightly at the boy's impudence but didn't lose his temper, as he tried reasoning out with him.

"I understand my Owsla's reception of you wasn't exactly welcoming; we happen to be in a war situation, so we tend to take ourselves a little too seriously, especially when it comes to admitting strangers…"

"So I've noticed," scoffed Jamie, "Like when your goons butchered Acorn? What, you think I'm dumb? Well, I'm not!" Although close to exploding at Jamie's lack of respect, Woundwort made one more attempt to gain the boy's trust.

"I am truly sorry about your friend, young one, but, in case you've forgotten, you got two of my soldiers killed with that lendri you set on them. They were merely acting in an act of provocation and self-defence…" But the boy only rolled his eyes.

"And what about Ash and Nightshade?" snapped Jamie acidly, "And the rabbits of Thinial? Is _that _your idea of self-defence…?" Realising he was getting nowhere, Woundwort decided to cut his gentle approach short and speak plain. His somewhat soft expression suddenly turned hard.

"I understand you've come here looking for your father boy, who is my custody," he said coldly, causing Jamie to gasp, realising Woundwort knew where his father was, "Well, if you agree to my demands, you have my word that you and your father will be spared, and allowed to go free."

"What kind of demands?" Although desperately wanting to see his father again after coming all this way, the idea of agreeing to do any of this scoundrel's dirty work in exchange, didn't sit well with Jamie at all. Sure enough, Woundwort gave him a nasty smile.

"I want that ithe Johnson, whom your father was aiding; and I also want that so-call Chief Rabbit of the outsiders, Hazel-rah, and that oaf Captain of Owsla of theirs, Thlayli. Those heretics plotted to overthrow my domain and hand it over to mankind's rule, and I intend to see each and every one of them punished for this! So far they've managed to evade capture; but maybe not for much longer, now that you've come along…"

"So you expect me to lead you to Johnson and his friends?" said Jamie, finally realising where Woundwort was getting at: he was asking him to sell out the reminder of Johnson's party, which had escaped from Efrafa, to him, in exchange for his father's release. Satisfied that he had finally spiked Jamie's interest, Woundwort went on.

"My battle with the outsiders isn't your business, and you needn't through your life away over it. This is my final offer, ithe: reveal to me the whereabouts of the outsiders and Johnson, and you and your father will be reunited and free to return back to your own time, or wherever you choose to go, as long as you never come back. What do you say?"

For an instant, Jamie felt tempted to agree; after all, it was true that he had no business in this future world, where he didn't belong. He had only come here to find his father and bring him home, not lead a revolution on behalf of these humanoid rabbits. To have his father back and be free to return to his home time seemed the best he could ask for… But then, he realised he couldn't do this; even if he knew where Johnson was – which he didn't –, and even if this monster kept his end of the bargain, it would mean selling out his newfound friends for slaughter, betraying them outright, which was against everything his parents stood for.

The thought of all those who had died helping him get this far – Ash, Nightshade, Willow, Nose-in-the-Air, Snitter, Acorn – made him feel disgusted of even considering trading their lives for his father's and his own. He even thought of Dr Johnson and the secret feelings his mother had had for that man. His parents would never forgive him for this… No, he wasn't going to take the easy way out and leave his friends to their fate; they were all in the same boat from the start, so they would see this ride through together. He shook his head at Woundwort.

"Never, you low-life bastard!" he shouted, spitting in the evil rabbit's face, which twisted with rage. Before he knew what was happening, a powerful blow on the side of his face sent him flying across the room like a discarded rag doll. He crumpled to the floor, his face bruised and bloodied with a three-notch claw gash, as he struggled to stay conscious, for an instant thinking his brains had been bashed into his skull. Looking up, he saw Woundwort tower over him like a wild animal going for the kill.

"Have it your way, you impudent little brat! Very well then, the deal is off; but bear in mind that your friends will be the first to suffer the bitter consequences of your choice!" he thundered, his red eye glowing hungrily at the death threat. Robbins, Vervain and Campion came hurrying in, alerted by the commotion. Vervain cackled nastily at the sight of Jamie lying battered on the floor.

"That's right General; teach this cringing bit of filth a proper lesson in obedience…!" Campion, however, giving Vervain a disgusted glare, hurried over to help Jamie to his feet, giving him a comforting smile as he did so. In spite of his pain and dreading of what Woundwort intended to do to his friends, the boy muttered his thanks at the Efrafan Captain. Vervain sneered at them both.

"That's right Campion, waste your sympathy on the lowly filth you rub shoulders with. You claim to be a patriot to Efrafa, yet you don't even have the courage to admit that you're actually in league with the outsiders…!"

"That will do Captain Vervain!" snapped Woundwort, "I am telling you for the last time, your accusations against Campion are wrong, based on nothing but your personal feud, just like when you mistook him for dead and left him at the mercy of the enemy. I don't wish to hear another word about it!" Vervain fell silent but continued to glare at Campion, frustrated at having no way to expose his nemesis' traitorous scheme, desperate for an opportunity to get back at him.

Woundwort turned to Jamie, whom Robbins held at gunpoint, "Bring the boy along; I want the rest of his friends to bear witness to their little ringleader's fate. We'll offer each of them the same deal. Move out!" With Robbins and Vervain dragging Jamie along, the latter tormenting the boy by gloating on how his father had died a fool alongside Johnson, and how he and his friends would soon follow. Jamie however walked like a zombie, not even bothering to retort, his mind pondering on his grim fate.

He had come too late to save his father – or so that scumbag Vervain said anyway -, and now he and his friends were going to be killed as well by these cutthroat Efrafans. And it was all because of _him_; if he had thought of coming here alone in the first place, then they wouldn't be in this fix now. Even if Hannah could get them out in time, where would they go, when there was a whole army standing guard above ground? His mind flashed back to when he had first met them back at Sandleford; why hadn't he simply let them go their own way then, rather than invite them on this death ride?

Unbeknownst to him however, someone else in that room was feeling for his misery and determined to do something about it. Campion, finally having had enough of his Chief's ruthlessness, had decided it was time to take drastic action. Although Hazel had made him promise not to blow his cover until the last possible moment, he couldn't just sit around and watch the boy's group being slaughtered simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. For all he knew, that rabbit and his ithe friend were already dead, and any plans they had had to overthrow Woundwort had gone to Inle. Now it was up to him and him alone…

Meanwhile, down in the cell, Kenny, with Hannah's help, had just finished getting the AC vent open. Pulling the last screw free, he grasped the grillwork by the edges and easily pulled it off; their path to freedom was open! Although Jamie was still upstairs, probably being interrogated those scoundrels, Kenny still had an obligation to try and get the rest of their group out of here while he still could. Reaching into his pocket, he took out their single flashlight – their only means of lighting their way through the pitch-black ventilation system. Speedwell called the others forward.

"All right chaps, we're getting out of here. Everyone form a line and climb up, one at a time. Kenny, you're first. Hurry now!" Climbing up into the vent beside Hannah, Kenny reached out to help pull each of their companions up after him, as they climbed onto Speedwell's back to reach the opening. Soon, Hickory and Marigold had crawled inside the duct, which led off into opposite directions throughout the HAB, in complete darkness.

"All right, Celandine, you turn!" called Speedwell, "Well, come on…!" But the doe lay curled up onto the floor, unconscious, burning up from the fever caused by the infection. Kenny leapt down from the vent and hurried over to her. Turning her over, he saw her eyes and nose horribly bloodshot and swollen. She was beginning to go blind.

"Come on Celandine, wake up, please!" shouted Kenny, slapping her across the cheeks to revive her. Her swollen eyes slowly opened, focusing on him, as she muttered, "Just leave me here…I am too tired…save yourselves…" Kenny felt his insides curl up; it was as if the doe he had come to look up to as a foster mother was saying her final goodbye.

"No, you've got to keep moving! Come on, on your feet! Ata girl!" With colossal effort, and with Kenny supporting her, Celandine managed to stand, head hanging low in pain and fatigue, the illness having drained her of all her strength, as she literally dragged herself towards the vent.

"I can't do this… I can't…" she moaned, but Kenny would hear none of it.

"Don't think about it; think of your unborn children! Just suck it up one more time, damn it! I'll get you to that infirmary even if I have to drag you there by the ears! Now come on!" Before he could get her up into the vent however, suddenly they heard footsteps outside.

"Damn, they're coming back already…!" Kenny looked around frantically for something he could use to bar the door with, but there was nothing but pipes, valves and circuit panels. Before they knew what was happening, they heard their captors unlatch the locked door to their prison cell, and swing it open, catching them in the act…

The Efrafans and Robbins led Jamie back downstairs to the utility room, where the rest of his friends were being held, to have them all killed together as a group. Woundwort had ordered several savage-looking rabbits, the size of oxen, which Jamie guessed were to be their executioners, to escort them. Vervain kept gloating with sickening delight as they marched the doomed boy down death row.

"Like father, like son," he was saying, "Did you little fool know that Johnson abandoned your father at our mercy to save himself, like the coward he was? Only, he didn't get very far…" In spite of his grief, Jamie felt his blood boil; he wanted to turn round and punch Vervain on the nose, but he knew it wouldn't do him or his friends any good, and he wasn't about to give that slimeball of a rabbit the satisfaction. His father would have shown more dignity than that even when he was about to die.

They stopped outside the cell; handing Jamie over to Campion and Vervain, Robbins removed the crowbar he had wedged across the latch of the door, barring it shut, and opened up for the executioners to enter and finish off the rest of the boy's companions. Woundwort called them all to order.

"Robbins, you take care of the boy. I believe there is nothing more to be said. Campion, Vervain, you round up the rest of that miserable lot inside and bring them out so they may bear witness to their little hero's demise. Hop to it then!" Jamie caught a glimpse of Vervain ushering the executioners inside the cell, before Robbins grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and took him aside to carry out the order.

Pinning him against the wall by the throat, he drew his revolver and brought it up to Jamie's face. The boy felt his insides turn to ice; for an instant he wanted to plead for his life, but somehow managed to retain his cool, intent on living up to his father's courage to the last. Robbins sneered, a hungry gleam in his eyes.

"You ought not to have messed with us boy. The likes of us are dangerous!" He brought the revolver up to Jamie's forehead, preparing to fire. Jamie shut his eyes, bracing for the deadly blow, when suddenly…

"Escape! The outsiders are escaping!"

Both Robbins and Jamie turned their attention back to the cell door at the sound of Vervain's voice, who had entered the cell, only to catch the rest of their prisoners in the midst of their escape. This, ironically, was what saved Jamie's life, who, finding himself free of his would-be murderer for a split second, seized the opportunity. Reaching for a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall beside him, he slammed it down hard onto Robbins' head, who crumpled to the floor, clutching his skull in agony.

Discarding the battered fire extinguisher, Jamie sprinted for the cell door; if he could only get inside and lock it behind him, cutting them off from the Efrafans, he could join the rest of his companions in their escape… Before he could get there, however, he suddenly found his way blocked by Woundwort who jumped between him and the door.

"Going somewhere, you little fool?" the Efrafan dictator snarled menacingly, "Nobody escapes General Woundwort that easily! Least of all, a pitiful little mouse like you…" Before Jamie could lament on his seemingly foiled chance, wishing he had held onto that extinguisher a little longer, much to everyone's surprise, someone came to his rescue. Woundwort was caught by surprise when he was suddenly rammed in the side and thrown sideways by non other than…

"_Campion_?" the General gasped in surprise, his minions likewise stunned in disbelief at what had just happened. Captain Campion, the most loyal and dedicated officer in Woundwort's Owsla, strike his own Chief? What was going on here? Woundwort finally found his voice again, "What are you doing?"

"What I should have done long ago, sir," replied Campion coldly, jumping in a protective stance between Jamie and his advancing comrades, "Your tyranny has gone far enough!" Vervain, also coming to his senses, went hysterical.

"You see, Sire?" he shrieked, "I told you he was a traitor all along, just like his wretched father was! It was he who helped the outsiders infiltrate Efrafa! And now he's helping this bunch! I knew it from the start…!" But Woundwort roared at him to shut up, before turning to Campion, unwilling to have to declare his best Captain of Owsla a traitor to Efrafa.

"Campion, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you are out of your league! You've served me loyally for hrair seasons, so I am giving you a chance: put aside this madness and I'll forget what just happened. You have my word that they'll be no punishment. Now stand aside!" But Campion's mind was made up.

"I have indeed served you loyally long enough sir, when I should have started a rebellion against you the day you made me Captain of Owsla," he said, his eyes narrowing in hate; although he had often suspected there had been something more behind his father's death, it had never crossed his mind that he had died a _traitor_. But Vervain's big mouth always spoke the truth; it had been Woundwort who had done his father in on that mission to Sandleford, all those seasons ago, and then lied to him about it, fuelling his distrust of outsiders, and turning him into another of his loyal puppets. But not anymore. Sure enough, as if reading his mind, Woundwort spoke again.

"Yes Campion, your father, just like you, let his sentiments get the better of him and betrayed me to the enemy, for which he was punished appropriately. Efrafa would have expended beyond the Dark Territory long ago if it hadn't been for his weakness! And you will be sharing his bitter fate if you don't stand aside now!" The time for talk was over.

"Run lad!" Campion shouted to Jamie, who, realising he couldn't help Campion, turned and bolted towards the door, only to find himself set upon by several of the guards, who had circled around while they had been talking, catching them by surprise. Woundwort smiled nastily.

"You see Campion? Resistance is foolish and futile. Final chance: kill the boy and you'll be pardoned. Refuse, and you die with him!"

"Over my dead body!" snarled Campion indifferently. He knew his Chief well; once someone got into his bad books, there was no turning back. He had just thrown away his life as a respected Efrafan Captain forever. But it felt good; after hearing the truth about his father, he knew he had made the right decision. But would he live long enough to fulfil it? He was a great warrior all right, but there were too many of them, and Woundwort alone was no simple opponent to say the least… But then, suddenly, help came in another unexpected form…

"Let him go, you scoundrels!"

They all turned in surprise and saw Celandine, who, seeing her friend about to be killed, had broken free of Kenny and Speedwell's grasp, her diminished strength suddenly renewed by anger, and now stood facing the savage Efrafans, which, surprisingly enough, seemed to cower at the sight of her. In an instant, Jamie realised why. With the Myxomatosis now in full force, the dreaded symptoms clearly visible, she was using the disease to scare off the assailants, just like Nose-in-the-Air had done back at Cowslip's warren.

"What's the matter?" she sneered reproachfully, "Afraid of getting a taste of your own poison Woundwort? You had no qualms is condemning the rabbits of Thinial to misery and death. Now it's your turn!" She seemed ready to pounce straight into the mob of Efrafans, which would require no effort whatsoever; it was common knowledge that even brief direct contact with an infected rabbit was all it took to pass on the White Blindness to another. Catching the hint, Woundwort drew back in alarm.

"White Blindness! Plague carrier!" he shouted, "Get back you fools! Get away from her now!" The entire Efrafan squad, including Campion, draw back, looking utterly terrified; their bulging muscles were no good against the White Blindness. They couldn't touch Jamie's party now; for all they knew, the entire group was infected and dangerous. Woundwort however, despite being fully aware of the danger, was not willing to let his prisoners escape now. And he didn't need to endanger himself or his Owsla to accomplish it.

"Robbins, shoot them! Kill them all!" he ordered. The man, still recovering from the blow, and feeling extremely vengeful, retrieved his revolver, preparing to fire. But Jamie was faster; grabbing Celandine, he darted back inside the room, slamming the door behind them, where Kenny wedged the crowbar in the latch, bolting it shut from the inside. They heard several shots being fired, hitting the door outside, but unable to penetrate the steel. The jammed latch rattled as Robbins struggled to force it open, but it held tight. Woundwort's hysterical blows and cursing followed, but even his strength wasn't enough to punch through. For the moment, they were safe.

"Come on guys, we have to get moving," Jamie said, giving Celandine a hug of gratitude for saving them with her quick thinking. For an instant, his mind also turned to Campion, who was now in the hands of his own comrades and bound to feel Woundwort's wrath for helping him. But there was nothing they could do for him now.

Hurrying over the vent, the boys helped Celandine climb up inside and then followed suit. With Jamie in the lead, flashlight in one hand and the HAB's diagram in the other, Hannah, Speedwell, Hickory, Marigold, Celandine, and Kenny behind him, the group made their way through the maze-like ventilation system. Crawling on their knees along the narrow duct, Kenny urging the semiconscious Celandine along, Jamie made for the infirmary, where they hoped to find the vaccine to save his friend – all of them for that matter – from the White Blindness.

Outside the sealed cell door, Robbins and Woundwort gave up trying to force it open. Through the small observation porthole, they had seen their prisoners escape into the ventilation system. For the second time, Woundwort had let a group of captured enemies wriggle right out of his grasp – and he was going to make sure the rabbit responsible paid dearly for this! He rounded on Campion.

"I looked up to you Campion; but it seems I was a fool to believe you'd expiate your father's sins. You disappoint me. Because of your actions, Efrafa's greatest enemies are now still at large…"

"The only enemy to Efrafa, General, is _you_!" Campion blurted out, refusing to let Woundwort's words bring him down. Woundwort was furious.

"Silence, traitor!" he growled dangerously, "For your despicable display, you shall soon feel the harshness of the sentence of a court-marshal, mark my words!" Campion however remained unconcerned; most likely Woundwort would have him made an example of, like with Blackavar, which was just fine with him, given that his sacrifice would only encourage revolution amongst his fellow Efrafans who adored him. Woundwort, however, had a different idea in mind.

"No Campion, you won't die…not yet. Not before you've watched your newfound friends we've rounded up interrogated and killed, one by one, with you forced to watch!" he muttered nastily, "You thought you could use your popularity to plot against me? Well, you and your outsider associates will soon learn how General Woundwort is unbeatable and unstoppable!" He turned to the guards.

"Campion is hereby stripped off his command, charged with high treason. Escort him back to Efrafa and lock him up with the rest of the outsiders. He is, henceforth, not to be addressed with any formal military salute and he's not to be permitted any privileges beyond that of a convicted prisoner. Captain Vervain is hereby promoted to Captain of Owsla, with Corporal Moss as his acting deputy…" Campion only scoffed.

"Consider this my highest honour, _sir_!" he sneered, mocking Woundwort's title, causing Woundwort's face to twist with rage.

"Get him out of my sight, before I kill him myself!"

With an ecstatic Vervain, who looked as if Frith's Eve had come early, leading the way, several guards dragged Campion out, the former finally free to vent all those seasons of hate and despise towards his nemesis.

"You see Campion? Thought you could keep your little secret forever? Well, think again! Now you're going to watch you new friends suffer and die alongside you! Haven't you heard, misery loves company? Hah, just like you deserve, you filthy, outsider-loving traitor…! But Campion paid him no heed, as he marched proudly along, satisfied that at least Jamie and his friends had escaped. Or so he thought…

Woundwort watched as his guards took Campion away, before turning to Robbins, "I want this place locked down at once! Nobody gets out or comes in until further notice! Then I want a thorough search for those miserable plague-carriers. I want them all dead! And Frith help you, if you let any of them escape…" But Robbins, who knew how to use his logic better, other than simply making threats, had a plan.

"Actually General, I think I know how to _lure them_ out," he said, thinking hard, "What we need is some bait…"

**Author's note:** My sincere apologies for the lengthy delay, but I was experiencing writer's block. I will try and upload the next chapter sooner, but I can't promise anything. Currently, I have my military service coming up next month, at which point all my stories will be placed on temporary hiatus until next summer. Sorry! Meanwhile, I will try and submit at least one more chapter for each story before putting them on hiatus. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	20. Chapter 20 Be Cunning and Full of Tricks

Claustrophobia and fear prevailed among Jamie's group, as they made their way along the AC vent on their hands and knees, with nothing but the boy's small flashlight to light their way. Instead of going back the same way Hannah had come in – which they knew was no doubt now blocked by Efrafan guards -, they made their way through the HAB, towards the animal infirmary.

It was anything but easy; the AC system was a maze of dark narrow vents, with no markings or anything to point the way. Even the diagram of the facility, which Kenny had ripped off the wall back in their cell, was of little help, as it didn't include a clear outline of the ventilation system. Every now and then, they'd spot another grillwork-covered vent up ahead, only to see unfamiliar derelict rooms beyond, which they couldn't even trace on the diagram. Moving blindly, with no way to tell if they were going in the right direction or not, they kept going. Meanwhile, they had another growing problem to consider.

"Come on, Celandine old girl, almost there!" Kenny continued urging the staggering Celandine along. But the ailing doe had finally reached the end of the line. Losing her balance, she crumpled to the ground. They all turned to look at her in alarm.

"Oh, God, Celandine, don't you do this to me now!" Kenny shouted, desperately shaking the doe, begging her to awake, but to no avail. With her eyes and nose now grotesquely swollen by the infection, she looked nothing less than living death. Whether or not she had already lost her eyesight permanently was uncertain, but it surely wasn't long coming, "Oh, Celandine, please…!"

"Shut up!" Jamie hissed in warning, "Remember, sound carries in these ducts; you speak too loudly and they'll hear you!" Lost, and with Celandine now comatose and about to die before their very eyes, the group settled down to catch their breath, unwilling to go any farther.

At that moment, the light coming from Jamie's torch began to dim and finally went out; the batteries were finally dead, plunging them all into complete darkness. _Trust Tom Shelton to buy the cheapest crap-flashlight._ Discarding it, he turned to his last means of providing light: the luminous screen of his cell phone, which also seemed likely to die on him at any moment. The dimming bluish light fell across Celandine's swelling face, where ghastly lesions filled with pus were beginning to form, as the disease entered its final stages.

"I told you it was no use taking her along with us," said Speedwell grimly, "We're only making her suffer more…" But Jamie wasn't listening; his eyes had darted to Hickory, who seemed to have developed a small nosebleed, although Jamie couldn't remember seeing him getting hurt anywhere. Staring at the rabbit, he saw he was slowly becoming groggy and fatigued; as he had feared, the Myxomatosis was spreading fast, infecting them all, one by one. It was a matter of life or death to reach that infirmary. He sighed, thinking hard. Using the ventilation system to get there would take forever. There was only one thing for it.

"All right, this is what we'll do," he said, "The infirmary can't be too far off. Kenny and I will get out at the next vent and make our way there, using the corridors. The HAB is a big place; the Efrafans can't possibly have guards posted everywhere. If it's just the two of us, we stand a better chance of not getting caught…"

"Hey, just a minute!" Kenny snapped, "They've already tried to kill us. Haven't we had enough of this James Bond crap for one day…?" The others all muttered in agreement about the insanity of literally going looking for another confrontation. Even Speedwell looked doubtful.

"Are you sure you still want to go along with this?" asked the Owsla buck, "You do realise, if you're caught again, you'll be introducing yourself to the Black Rabbit of Inle on principal…" Although Jamie agreed whole-heartedly on that, the memory of his near-execution at the hands of Robbins still fresh in his mind, he knew it was too late for anything else, and too early for them to give up.

"We haven't much choice; between being killed by the Efrafans or dying of disease is death all the same. At least, this way we have a slim chance."

Leaving Speedwell, Hickory and Marigold to watch over Celandine, Jamie, accompanied by a reluctant Kenny and Hannah, continued on along the duct. But they didn't get very far. Around a corner further down, the duct dead-ended at a wire dust-trap with a large fan behind – part of the facility's air filtration system. Jamie tried cutting through it using the pliers on his multitool, but the wire was too thick; lying down on his back, with Kenny pushing against his shoulders, he tried kicking the dust-trap in, but it held solid. There was no way forward.

"No use," he said, nursing his aching thighs, "We have to go back…"

"Wait, what's this?" called Hannah, turning their attention to another grillwork beneath their feet. Grabbing hold, the boys lifted it off its frame, revealing another room below. But, to their utmost dismay, it wasn't the infirmary as they had hoped.

"The mess hall," sighed Kenny in disappointment, staring down at all the dusty plastic chairs and tables standing vacant around the room. At the far end, in an adjacent room, was a seating area, complete with a small bar. The vent they had reached led out through the roof of the adjacent kitchen. Several electric cookers and microwaves, among other kitchen utilities, where food was once prepared and served in self-service fashion it seemed, could be seen, standing dusty and disused, "I guess we've come the wrong way…"

"Not necessarily," interrupted Jamie, studying the diagram again and finding the mess hall. From here, he could easily pinpoint the way to the animal sickbay: out the mess hall, along a corridor, down a flight of stairs, and then to the left, "We continue on foot from here."

Climbing down into the galley, they followed the indicated corridor, with Hannah running up ahead, peeping outside doorways and around corners for them, as they noiselessly made their way towards the stairs. Suddenly, glancing around a corner, they spotted a guard up ahead, with his back turned to them, the entrance to the stairs just behind him. Gesturing at Kenny and Hannah to keep absolutely quiet, Jamie, his knife drawn, led the way forward.

Holding their breaths, they tiptoed nice and slowly towards the stairwell access, the dusty floor luckily deadening their footsteps, all the while praying the guard wouldn't turn round and spot them. But he didn't. Stepping into the stairwell, they found a spiral steel staircase running all the way from the top of the facility to the bottom. Large black painted letters on the concrete wall told them they were on Level 2B; the sickbay was on the level just below them. Hurryingly, but noiselessly, making their way downstairs, they came to a closed slide-door, with fading letters spelling:

CAUTION: 

LIVE ANIMALS

RESTRICTED ACCESS

The inscription alone confirmed that they had found the HAB's livestock bay. Somewhere inside this section of animal-housing compartments had to also be a veterinary sickbay, chockfull of medicine…hopefully. Finding the door unlocked, they entered and started looking. Sure enough, it didn't take them long to locate the small animal infirmary just off the entrance to the animal pens. Breaking the glass window on the locked door with a fire extinguisher, to undo the latch on the other side, they entered.

The place hardly inspired confidence: two small adjacent rooms – one the medical bay and the other a quarantine room for sick animals - cluttered with medical equipment and supply cabinets lying on stainless-steel shelves and tables. Although undoubtedly a key facility back at the time of the Apocalypse, when healthy livestock meant a source of nourishment for the HAB's personnel, now it was a thing of the past.

Like the rest of the facility, the animal sickbay had long since been reduced to little more than a derelict junk room, following the exodus of Dr Drake's people and Hemlock's rise to power; dusty, broken, and worn-out bits of equipment lay everywhere, tucked beneath a blanket of dust and cobwebs.

However, unlike other sections of the HAB, which had been stripped clean of their precious supplies ages ago, the veterinarian's station had seen little action, as most of the livestock had died over the first few years of the Apocalypse, leaving most of the medical supplies, which were worthless for human consumption, to go to waste, shelved and mothballed for centuries. There had to be something.

Wasting no time, the trio split up and began turning the abandoned sickbay inside out, looking for any medicine that could help Celandine. At first it seemed their luck wasn't meant to hold out as they opened up drawers and cabinets, finding nothing but junk, which they unceremoniously piled onto a disused gurney. Finally, their efforts were rewarded when Hannah pulled away a strip of plastic covering something in a corner, revealing a glass cabinet on wheels, filled with an assortment of different medicine bottles, pill boxes, and ampoules.

"Eureka, guys!"

Grinning from ear to ear, the three companions fell upon the cabinet like hungry wolves going for a fat goat. Then came the question of _what_ were they looking for. There had to be a dozen or so different medications in there and just as many samples of each drug; pills, ointments, sprays, serums, powders, and liquids, for treating a hundred different animal diseases stood on display. But which one was the damn vaccine for Myxomatosis?

"All right, mate, which is it?" asked Kenny, picking up a handful of small bottles, unable to tell one from the other, "Come on dude, think!" But, at the worst possible moment in his life, in the midst of his fear and anxiety, Jamie couldn't remember the name of the vaccine that could save their friend.

Noc… Nob…something like that," he mumbled, slapping his head in exasperation. _Bollocks, which is that bloody serum?_ All he could remember was that the vaccine had to be administered via syringe, but nothing more. While the drugs were all clearly marked with their names and chemical formulas, none of them specified what exactly they were for. And they couldn't administer them all to Celandine until they hit the right one!

Desperately, they renewed their search, looking for a manual or anything else that could give them a reliable reference. There was nothing; apparently the army veterinarian stationed here – a certain Colonel Varnick M.O., judging by the nametag on a doctor's robe hanging from a peg on the wall – had kept all that information up in his head, eventually taking them to the grave with him. Then, going through the desk drawers, Jamie found a battered copy of _A Veterinarian's Guide to Animal Medications and Immunisations_ – an encyclopaedia to all known animal medicines! Although obviously just a basic reference guide, containing a simple list of drugs and their related diseases, it was better than nothing.

At that moment, they heard familiar voices outside, coming downstairs. The boys instantly ducked in the shadows under the desk, watching Robbins and several Efrafans pass just outside the door. They all held their breaths, expecting them to enter the room and catch them. But they simply moved on, always hurryingly, heading towards the animal pens.

"They don't even seem to be searching for us. What are they doing?" Kenny whispered to Jamie, who didn't reply, instead gesturing to Hannah to chance a peep outside the door. She complied, giving them the thumbs up; the coast was clear.

"Let's get the hell out of here before they come back," said Jamie, picking up an empty first-aid box sitting on a chair and shoving it into Kenny's hands. "Fill this up with everything in that cabinet – don't waste time trying to sort them out now. Hannah, you keep a sharp lookout at the door. Come on, hurry up, and not a sound!"

While Kenny emptied the shelves of the medicine cabinet, fretting at the tinkling sound of glass bottles and ampoules piling up inside the metal box, Jamie continued rummaging through the drawers and lockers, looking for anything else they might need. Adding a sealed hypodermic kit, along with the encyclopaedia, and several other useful odds and ends he had found, to the box, he signalled it was time to go.

With Kenny carrying the precious box, now filled to bursting with medical supplies, and Jamie brandishing a fire extinguisher he had found, to use as a weapon in case they run into any trouble, they noiselessly crept back they way they had come. Making their way back upstairs, they found the guard still at his post, fortunately still oblivious to their presence.

Their luck seemed about to take a turn for the worst when Kenny accidentally dropped one of the medicine bottles; everything would have been ruined if Jamie hadn't pulled his friend through an open door and out of sight in the nick of time, as the bottle shattered on the floor. The guard spun round at the noise, but relaxed, seeing nobody, thinking it was just his own comrades moving about downstairs. Forbidden to leave his post to investigate, unless he actually spotted an intruder, he turned back to attention, unaware that the intruders he had been ordered to keep a look out for were hiding in the room next door!

Jamie shot his friend a furious glare for nearly giving them away with his clumsiness, as they slipped into the shadows, behind stacks and stacks of luggage – military and civilian alike - and other boxes, pilled around the room. The tags attached to them, bearing the word 'DECEASED' in red, told them these had to be the belongings of those who had died down here, whilst waiting for the solar winter caused by the asteroid impact to pass. Placed in storage and forgotten after their owners had gone, this storeroom resembled the Lost and Found of the Dead.

After a few minutes, when the guard hadn't come their way, Hannah signalled it was safe to go. Still brandishing the fire extinguisher, with the pin drawn, Jamie led the way out. Kenny paused for a moment, intrigued by the thought of finding more useful stuff here. Other than the clothes they were wearing, they had nothing left other than Jamie's knife, phone, and SAS Guide; in a survival situation, a place like this could be a treasure chamber, "Wait, we should look for weapons while we're here. Maybe some food too…"

"There's no time for that now!" hissed Jamie, struggling to keep his voice to a whisper. Although knowing all too well that they needed supplies, particularly weapons, Celandine needed the medicine first. Grabbing his friend by the collar, who had already started pocketing anything useful he could find, they hurried back to their companions' hiding place with the medicine. Unbeknownst to them, the Efrafans they had seen downstairs, on Woundwort's orders, were dragging several prisoners – members of Hazel-rah's group – from their secret prison, upstairs, to be used as leverage against them…

Meanwhile, up in the control room, Woundwort was preoccupied with his own plans. After Jamie's group had escaped, and Captain Campion had been placed under arrest and taken back to Efrafa, pending his trial, Woundwort had ordered the fugitives be apprehended at all costs.

The HAB had been ordered into complete lockdown, with all exits under heavy guard; every available Owsla rabbit had been dispatched into search parties, which had combed the HAB from top to bottom, but coming up with nothing. Growing frustrated at his Owsla's lack of progress, the General had finally resorted to going along with Robbins' plan of luring Jamie's group out of hiding, using live bait.

"Bring the prisoner forward!"

Two thickset guards approached, dragging, without any dignity or gentleness, a battered and utterly terrified doe by the ears, and dumping her at Woundwort's feet; Marigold's sister, Nildrohein, who had fled Cowslip's warren with Hazel's band in hopes of finding a new and better home, stared up at Woundwort in silent terror. The evil dictator smiled nastily.

"Glad of you to join us, my dear," he said, his voice cold as death, "It appears you have some visitors – some who lack the manners of gracing us with their presence unfortunately. It seems they need a bit of…persuasion." He turned to Vervain, standing right behind her, "What about that second doe, the one going into kindle? I am sure there were two of them still left…"

"She's in a coma, from complications related to childbirth," scoffed Robbins, plunking a sack on the table, "But never mind; her newborn litter will do just as well." With the 'bait' ready, he turned to a nearby control panel, which operated the facility's intercom system. Hitting a series of switches, to activate the public address system, he put Woundwort on the box, who spoke, his sinister voice, magnified several times its normal volume, travelling throughout the derelict, semi-illuminated corridors of the HAB on the voice circuit.

"Attention, outsiders…!"

Cramped inside their hiding place in the AC vent, Jamie's group were tending to Celandine. With Hickory now also starting to display symptoms of White Blindness, confirming that he too was also infected, the boys worked frantically, without a word. By the light of his phone, Jamie browsed through the index section of the guidebook, looking up Myxomatosis.

It wasn't easy; the book listed just about every known animal medication in alphabetical order, but not the disease itself, making it an extensive and overwhelmingly time-consuming search. There were over five hundred pages and the vaccine could be anywhere. Even the index was of little help, simply listing the names of each of the medications discussed, alongside their page numbers. They could be looking at the vaccine right now and not even realise! What were they supposed to do, browse the whole damn book from beginning to end? By the time they found the vaccine, Celandine would be a goner…if she weren't already.

The crisis was soon solved however, when Jamie suddenly remembered something he had learned from his school librarian, about finding specific information in large books quickly. Turning from the index section to the A-Z glossary at the back, he browsed through the words under M, until he finally hit upon Myxomatosis, with the page number of any related medications listed beside it. Flipping back to the indicated page, he let out a cry of triumph.

"_Nobivac_!" he read aloud, "That's the one!" Instant, Kenny was pawing feverously through the box of medicines, coming up with four sealed ampoules – just enough for each of the rabbits - clearly marked by that name:

NOBIVAC MYXO-RSD

QI08AD02

CAUTION: CONTAINS LIVE VIRUSES!

VETERINARIAN USE ONLY!

Hurryingly unpacking the hypodermic kit, Jamie took out a disposable syringe fitted with a sterile needle. Jabbing it into the seal of the ampoule, he extracted the clear liquid, preparing a shot. How much did he need? He couldn't find a weight reference chart on the ampoule and there wasn't one in the book. Say, all of it? Perhaps. He brought the syringe close to Celandine, hesitating.

He had never administered a shot before in his life; where should he stick the needle? He had no idea if this was even going to work; he had no idea if the serum was safe after all these years; he didn't even know if he had the right dose. What if something went terribly wrong, and he ended up causing some fatal complication or something? Wouldn't that make him a murderer? Seeing his hesitation, Speedwell spoke to Jamie.

"Go ahead, young one," he said encouragingly, "It's her only hope; I am sure she won't hold it against you, even if it doesn't work."

"Here goes nothing…" Taking a deep breath, Jamie gripped the syringe firmly and drove the needle into Celandine's left thigh, just as he remembered his mother doing it on people's pets. The doe moaned painfully in her state of semi-consciousness, making him realise his touch must be pitifully amateurish and painful. Then, it was done. Discarding the used syringe, they sat back and waited, wondering what the outcome would be. Wound Celandine recover? Had the Myxomatosis done any permanent damage to her eyesight and sense of smell? Would it affect her unborn kittens? They would find out soon enough.

Using an old-fashioned stethoscope and a mercury thermometer he had found in the sickbay, like a doctor, he continuously monitored Celandine's vitals, looking for any reaction. Half an hour passed in silence. He could hear her heart racing under the effects of the fever, which was slowly killing her, the serum seemingly having no effect whatsoever… Then, suddenly, listening again, he heard her heartbeat slowly begin to ease up; even the thermometer, originally registering a life-threatening body temperature of 110, was beginning to go down. Although obviously they couldn't expect the full outcome in the short run, Jamie knew the vaccine was working; the mutated viral strand in the serum was boosting Celandine's, otherwise, defenceless immune system, counteracting the Myxomatosis.

"It's working guys. Look!" the boys winked at each other, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of their companions' stunned expressions. The rabbits, all of which believed White Blindness to be completely unstoppable, couldn't believe their eyes. Was their friend actually _getting better_?

"Frith of Inle, they're right!" muttered Speedwell, utterly dumbstruck with amazement, "Unbelievable…"

"All right, let's not waste time," Jamie said, preparing another syringe. Now that they had tested the vaccine and knew it worked – so far at least -, everyone else had to be given a shot as well, before the Myxomatosis spread any further. His confidence restored, Jamie got to work again, sticking each of his rabbit friends in turn with a shot of Nobivac, immunising them. The prospect of anyone dying from White Blindness had finally been lifted.

"That's it then," said Jamie triumphantly, discarding the used syringes and ampoules, "Now you guys have immunity to Myxomatosis for the next two years." For an instant, his mind flashed back to Rosebud and Flyairth; if only they had a few more doses of Nobivac, they could have brought help back at Thinial, just as he had promised. Unfortunately, those rabbits were not coming out of quarantine any time soon.

Before the boys could receive any words of praise however, the group's rejoicing was cut short when they suddenly heard Woundwort's booming voice on the facility's intercom, calling out to them.

"_Attention, outsiders! We know you are still down there and that you can hear us. You efforts to escape my Owsla have been valiant and bold, so I will be putting your courage to the test one more time. I am aware that you've come here seeking Hazel's band of outsiders. Well, I have a certain doe in my custody, who wishes to speak to you…"_ They heard him speak to someone off-microphone, "_Now then, Nildrohein, if you please…"_

For a moment there was a pause and then they heard the chilling sounds of slapping and kicking over the intercom, followed by Nildrohein's painful cries. Robbins's voice spoke in the background, _"Call out to your sister, you bitch, and be quick about it! Now!"_ The thud of someone being slammed down flat on a tabletop was heard, and then Nildrohein's crying, terrified voice rang out over the intercom.

"_Marigold, please don't listen to them! They mean to kill you all… Ow!"_ Her pleading was cut short however as someone punched her in the ribs from behind for not cooperating, or so it seemed. Woundwort's voice then reappeared on speaker.

"_If you recognise her, then I believe you get the message,"_ he said coldly, _"You are hereby ordered to come out and surrender immediately. Refuse, and she dies! Robbins!"_ he called, as his mad associate's voice was heard again, this time talking to them directly.

"_You have until the count of ten to break cover and turn yourselves in! You don't, and I'll blow her head off!"_ he said, the clicking sound of his revolver being cocked, followed by Nildrohein's frightened whimpering and pleading, echoing over the intercom, _"One… Two…!"_

"Frith of Inle! Nildrohein!" cried Marigold, having gone tharn the instant she had recognised her sister's voice. After escaping her mad father and having come all this way, she had finally found her missing sister, only to discover she had fallen into Woundwort's clutches and about to be killed, "We've got to help her…!"

Jamie and Speedwell had to restrain Marigold, who was about to dart for the open vent, crying out hysterically for her sister, "No, Marigold, you can't help her! They'll just kill you too!"

"…_Five… Six…!"_

"_Please, don't, I beg you…" _Nildrohein, realising she was about to die, could be heard crying and pleading for her life, but her captors were beyond any ideas of mercy. Meanwhile, her chilling cries were sending her sister, unable to do anything to help her, around the bend with horror.

"I can't leave my own sister to die! Let me go!" shrieked Marigold incredulously, struggling like mad to wriggle out of their grasp, "Nildrohein…!"

"…_Eight… Nine…!"_

Jamie held his breath, his heart pounding; although he, like the rest of his companions, knew Nildrohein was doomed, and giving themselves up wouldn't make a damn difference, not with Woundwort wanting them all dead anyway, the thought of what that poor doe must be feeling, knowing she was about to be killed because of them, felt like an icy knife being driven through his heart. Perhaps some miracle would make Woundwort change his mind at the last minute and call off the execution…? Unfortunately, that wasn't to be the case.

"…_Ten!"_

No sooner had Robbins reached the count of ten, than the deafening bang of a gunshot echoed throughout the facility, followed by a deathly silence, and they knew that Nildrohein was gone.

"NO!"

At the sound of the gunshot, which had been her sister being murdered in cold blood, with the execution literally broadcasted for everyone to hear, Marigold completely lost it. It took the combined strength of both the boys, Speedwell, and even Hickory, to restrain her. Finally giving up her efforts to break free, Marigold slumped to the floor of the duct, sobbing hysterically, "No, please Frith, no! Not Nildrohein! Not my sister…!" Her grief turned to fury, as she rounded on Jamie, who was throwing up in a corner, sickened with horror and guilt.

"Frith damn you, why did you stop me?!" she shrieked, shedding alligator tears of grief and hate, "They killed her because of _you_ and your damn heroics! I was a fool to trust you to reunite us with our friends… You're no better than my father! You killed her! You killed her! You killed her…" She broke down sobbing, overwhelmed with grief and despair. Over the intercom, they heard Robbins' tormenting voice again.

"_It seems sacrificing your own friends like cowards doesn't have much of an impact on you,"_ he sneered maliciously, _"But no matter; we'll you some quiet time to reflect, and then we'll try again. We still have plenty of prisoners to kill on your conscience! Perhaps witnessing another execution up close will change your minds…?"_Then the com went dead.

They all slumped to the floor, feeling utterly desperate; there was no more doubt that some members of Johnson's party had indeed survived the siege and were being held prisoner down here by the Efrafans. And Robbins' words had just confirmed that they hadn't seen the worst yet; any minute now, another prisoner would be killed on their account. And this cruel tactic would only continue on until they either surrendered, or all the prisoners were dead. Things weren't looking up after all…

Upstairs in the control room, Robbins was wiping blood off his clothing, which had come splattering everywhere when he had shot Nildrohein dead. The doe now lay lifeless at his feet, her brains blown clean out of her skull, her final expression of terror still visible on her rigid face, yet edged with a slight expression of relief, knowing that at least her sister was alive – her last comforting thought before death.

"Somebody clean this mess up, will you!" barked Robbins, as the guards, temporarily stunned by the lethal power of the gun, as well as the brutality of the killing, sprang forward and dragged the bloodied corpse away. Woundwort, who had been watching the whole thing, as if he didn't have a single care in the world, shook his head.

"It seems I underestimated them; they are actually above sacrificing their own friends to save themselves. Such an appalling display of cowardice…"

"Appalling indeed, sire," cackled Vervain sadistically, "So who will be next? How about that cringing bit of filth, Blackavar? He put up quite an impressive screaming match, begging for mercy, when we disfigured him the first time; I believe it's high time we made him a eunuch, to set an example to the rest of those cowardly outsiders…"

"That, Captain Vervain, will have to wait," said Woundwort, turning to Robbins, his expression cold, "As much as I'd like to compliment you on your unbending ruthlessness, our escapes are still showing no indication of surrendering. And, unless they do, I am still far from satisfied!" Robbins only smiled.

"Have patience, my dear General," he said, cleaning his revolver, "Persuasion takes time; right now, those brats downstairs are frightened, desperate, and vengeful. We'll give them fifteen minutes, for our warning to sink in, and then, if they still refuse to come out, we'll be giving them an even more spectacular killing to witness. Trust me, this tactic is popular among terrorists, as it has the potential of breaking the spirit of even the most resilient enemy. Like my old mentor Sergey used to say: 'If you have a heart, then you can never be fit to be called a true soldier.'"

"A word of the wise," commented Woundwort, looking impressed, "After all, that's exactly why that renegade Hazel-rah and his human protector Johnson failed in their pitiful attempt to destroy me…"

Downstairs, Jamie's group were struggling to pull themselves together and figure out some way out of this new predicament. Although, so far, they had managed to evade capture and death, as well as rid themselves of the Myxomatosis threat, the Efrafans were not giving up. To make matters worse, now that they knew that those brutes had hostages – familiar faces to them -, they couldn't just leave them to their fate. The terror in Nildrohein's voice seconds before she had been killed kept playing over and over in their minds like a haunting nightmare. Finally, Speedwell broke the silence.

"My friends, we have to keep moving," he said softly, "Nildrohein was already beyond help. This wasn't a case of her or us; it was the difference between one victim or hrair. Once Woundwort gets it into his mind to kill you, there's no negotiating…"

"You still had no right to just leave her at the mercy of those scoundrels!" snapped Hickory indignantly, backing up his distraught mate. Back where they came from, Cowslip would sacrifice any one of them to their humanoid custodians this way without a second thought; to see their newfound friends, who had promised to help them escape that life of fear, do the same thing to someone so close to them, felt nothing short of betrayal, "How could you be so cruel…?"

"Look," said Speedwell sharply, "You are not the only one who has lost a beloved one to Woundwort. Jamie's lost his father; and I've lost the only doe I've ever loved in my life…again…" The group's grieving for Nildrohein was cut short as Speedwell launched into the same sad story his estranged cousin Bluebell had told Alan Johnson when they had first met not so long ago.

"…Even after I lost her, in spite of the feud that developed between my cousin and me, deep down I always felt it was a punishment from Frith for betraying her over my selfish ambitions. Although I have long since accepted that I can never win her heart again, I made a secret pledge I would always be by her side and her children's when they needed me, till the day I die. When Woundwort seized the warren, forcing Acorn and me to flee, I swore I wouldn't betray her again. That's why I took the risk coming back here; just like Jamie did for his father, and you for Nildrohein."

Although somewhat touched by Speedwell's story, realising the hard truth that Nildrohein to never meant to be saved, Marigold still wasn't through with the death of her sister, her life-long dream of them leading peaceful and happy lives together someday, now shattered forever, "It doesn't change the fact that my sister, who never harmed anyone in her life, was murdered in cold blood…!"

"That's why you've got to make her sacrifice count," Speedwell continued, before she could lose it again, "She died knowing that, at least, we're still one step ahead of Woundwort and Robbins; unless you want her to have died in vain, you must – _we all_ must – pull together quickly and figure out some way to save the rest of those prisoners in line for execution up there!" Kenny scoffed.

"The only way that's going to happen is if we give in and surrender to those sons-of-bitches!" he retorted, "Only when we're either dead or captured will they stop this carnage…if they do…" Although only meant more as a sarcastic remark than anything else, it suddenly gave the desperate Jamie a wild idea.

"Then that's what we're going to do. We kill ourselves!" His companions all looked at him, thinking he had snapped completely,

"What in Frith's name are you saying?" gasped Hickory, "You're mad! Are you suggesting we _take our own lives_ in hopes that they will let the others go? What kind of logic is there in that…?"

"That's what they're going to think," Jamie explained, outlining his plan, "If we can somehow _convince_ them that we're dead, they'll cancel the lockdown, allowing us to escape in the confusion - and free the others in the process."

"But how in Frith's name do we do that?" asked Speedwell, "Play dead…?" Jamie thought hard; it would take something really spectacular to pull off a deception like that.

"A fire," he said, "We will start a bonfire, and make it seem that we were caught in the middle of it and perished." The rabbits all gasped at the thought of such a plan, their natural fear of fire kicking in. Even Kenny didn't seem too keen on the idea of setting the HAB on fire with them still trapped inside, remembering the wise old saying of 'Don't play with fire' he and his friend had been taught as little children.

"Great, and how exactly to we prevent from being roasted alive for real, when we torch this place? There are guards on the lookout for us at every exit! And what about Celandine? She can't even walk yet!" Jamie turned to look at their sick friend, still lying unconscious on the floor, the vaccine slowly producing the antibodies to counteract the disease. It could take several hours, perhaps days, before she was fit to go anywhere. What were they to do about her? They could take turns carrying her in pairs, but she would still hold them up, reducing their already slim chances of escape. Unless…

"Let's go and search that storeroom," said Jamie, "Perhaps there's something there we can use. Come on, there isn't much time!" Climbing down from the duct, the boys led the way to the Lost and Found storage compartment, where the belongings of the deceased, among other junk, were kept. Surprisingly enough, on the way, they had noticed the guard posted at the stairs had strangely gone. Still, it would make it a lot easier for them to carry out their plan, if they could move around freely for a while. Unfortunately, they failed to notice Vervain, who had deliberately recalled the guards on Woundwort's orders, hoping to lure them out, watching them from the stairs…

With little time to spare, Jamie divided their group into three parties, each assigned with a different task: He and Hannah started salvaging anything useful they could find; Kenny and Speedwell were assigned the task of gathering anything volatile they could find for the bonfire; Hickory and Marigold stood watch by the door; only Celandine, who was still too weak to help out, was placed on a bed of old clothes and left to rest.

"Come on chaps, make it fast!"

Using an empty traveller's bag made of waterproof nylon he had found on a shelf, Jamie began filling it with anything useful. As it turned out, his hunch of finding useful salvage here, inspired by his father's survival teachings of making good use of absolutely any resource available, proved to be correct, for the storeroom held more than just the junk of centuries-dead people.

Going through the luggage, the boys found an ample supply of clothing, all perfectly preserved after all these years, hardly even dusty from age. Kenny, who had never owned any real clothes in his life, save for his father's oversized hand-me-downs, seized the opportunity. Picking up a Marine's uniform he had found in a suitcase, he slipped into the shadows behind some piled-up old furniture, he stripped, underwear and all, and emerged a moment later dressed in brand-new clothes his size for the first time in his life. A machete, which he tucked in his belt, added the final touch to his new wardrobe. His old clothes were added to the pile of junk he and Speedwell were piling up in a laundry cart for the fire.

Jamie too was also temped to a change of clothes, preferably something that could withstand the wilderness better, but they had more important things to do than browsing for new clothes, and very little time at that. However, he added a pair of hiking boots and a multi-pocket traveller's vest to the bag, intent on trying them on later. It was frustrating next to find a box of electrical devices, including several flashlights, only to realise their batteries had long since gone flat and corroded, rendering the lot completely useless. Then, going through another suitcase, he found of pack of several unused glowsticks, which he pocketed. Obviously not as reliable as a flashlight, they would do.

The silver tuna was found when they came across a semi-stripped survival kit sitting on a chair. Excitedly opening up the metal container, they found an assortment of useful items, including space blankets, a hatchet, tarpaulin, canteen, a length of high-textile cord, and, joy-of-all-joys, a survival tin – a box containing ferrocerium (flints), fishing line and hooks, sawing needles, safety pins, dental floss, a sharpening stone, and saw-wire -, all of which could be useful in a hundred different ways out in the wilderness.

With regards to weapons however, unfortunately, there was nothing to be found, save for Kenny's machete, the HAB's personnel apparently having taken care to remove any such hazards. Then, Jamie finally found an old flare gun, complete with a box of cartridges, which someone had smuggled here in his luggage. Although obviously not as powerful as Robbins' revolver, he knew it was much more effective than a fire extinguisher, remembering the humanoid he had burned alive back at Cowslip's warren. A dozen leftover freeze-dried MREs from the galley, making up a week's worth of emergency supplies for their journey, completed their take.

For Celandine, they were fortunate enough to find a rickety stretcher on wheels lying stashed in a corner, where they placed the unconscious doe for safe transport, covering her with a bivouac they had found in another suitcase to keep her warm and comfortable. Now, they had medicine, tools, weapons, and means of proving light, heat, food, and shelter; the bare essentials for a lengthy journey through the wilderness of the future world. Now, all they had to do was escape this place.

They had just about finished packing, when Hickory suddenly called out, "I hear them, they're coming!" It was time to leave. With Jamie carrying their equipment on his back and pushing the cart filled with old clothes, towels, papers, plastics, cardboard, and even old batteries for the fire, while Kenny pushed Celandine's stretcher along, the group hurried back to the mess hall.

As part of their plan, they carted the junk into the kitchen and pilled in on the hobs. Then, using a bottle of spirits they had found in the bar, they drenched the pile with it, building a bonfire. But when Jamie tried turning the electric hobs on, nothing happened; the facility was operating on auxiliary power, so the main power buses, including those for the stoves, were dead. His eyes lit up as he spotted a small microwave on a nearby shelf, with an auxiliary power jack, clearly marked in red, protruding from the wall beside it.

Hastily yanking the power cable out of its socket, he plugged it into the emergency jack and saw the dials instantly flicker back to life. Taking a wire sponge from the sink and drenching in the last of the alcohol, he placed it into the oven, rigging the same booby-trap they had seen the character Casey Ryback do in _The Siege_, but had never been allowed to try it out for themselves.

"If mum could see me now, she'd kill me," Jamie muttered grimly, preparing the 'fuse' that would set this whole galley ablaze in another minute, "Not only are we vandalising the place, but we're also wasting good clothes that could have otherwise been donated to charity." With the booby-trapped microwave facing the bonfire, he turned it on full. Sparks instantly began flashing inside, indicating the alcohol-drenched wire-sponge was a live and ticking bomb.

Everything set, the group fled out a back way service door, intent on circling around from the other side, while Robbins and the Efrafans were busy with the fire, and making their way back upstairs, right under their noses. No sooner had the door closed behind them, than they heard the microwave explode, igniting the bonfire they had built. A fireball erupted from the galley, sweeping the entire mess hall…

Outside, at the foot of the stairs, Robbins and Woundwort had arrived, flanked by the entire Efrafan squad. After Vervain had returned, excitedly reporting he had located Jamie's group, the Efrafans had regrouped and made their way downstairs with an even more chilling display in store for them. On Woundwort's orders, the man had brought along Violet's newborn kittens, with instructions to start killing them, one-by-one, the minute they had the outsiders within sight. As far as they were concerned, the execution of that doe because they had refused to surrender had thoroughly demoralised the group; the execution of a helpless infant, and in plain view nonetheless would definitely bring them down to their knees in surrender. Their foolish sentiments would spell out their own grim downfall.

With the Owsla taking up attack positions outside the entrance to the mess hall, Robbins, knife in hand, took out one of the crying kittens in the sack by the scruff of its neck, preparing to run it through with the blade for the boys to see. Woundwort was about to call out to the fugitives again, demanding they surrender on pain of the kitten being slaughtered.

"Outsiders, your time is up…!"

BOOM!

The entire group were knocked to the floor, as the door to the mess hall was suddenly blasted open by a ball of fire. Behind the blasted doors, they saw a roaring fire incinerating the room. The Efrafans seemed about to panic, their natural fear of fire kicking in as they began to withdraw towards the stairs.

"Hold your positions!" roared Woundwort, furious at seeing his Owsla cower in the face of whatever game that impudent boy and his crew were playing with them, "Anyone who dares falter will be punished!"

"But sire, we don't stand a chance against that fire…!" Vervain protested, thinking the fire had been some sort of booby trap meant for them, which they had missed by lucky chance.

"Silence, you fool, or I'll kill you!" roared Woundwort again. He rounded on Robbins, "What's going on here? What's this?"

"I'm not sure," said Robbins calmly, dropping the sack with the kittens, and grabbing a fire extinguisher and fireman's air mask from their locker on the wall, "But we'll find out soon enough!" With great energy and skill, he attacked the galley fire, the foam of the extinguisher smouldering the flames, as the Efrafans looked on. In the midst of all that confusion however, nobody noticed a figure, noiselessly lurking right behind their turned backs, snatch away the bag with the kittens, which Robbins had left outside, and slip away into the shadows…

Overjoyed to have finally given their pursuers the slip, Jamie and his companions made their way back upstairs, making for the exit. By the time Woundwort and Robbins would realise it had been a decoy they would be long gone. The even happier outcome of their ordeal was that they had even managed to free some of Hazel-rah's group: Violet's newborn litter of four, although a scanty recovery, when 16 others were still missing and probably dead, they were still the cradle of the next generation of Watership Down, now safely out of danger. Speedwell, in particular, was overwhelmed with joy, and had insisted on taking them under his personal protection, as he carried the sack in his mouth, taking great care not to disturb the babies curled up inside.

With the boys carrying Celandine's stretcher between them, they made their way up the stairwell to Level 1. According to what they had overheard from Robbins and Woundwort earlier that evening, reinforcements were not due to arrive from Efrafa until tomorrow; and with the trouble they had stirred up, hopefully most of the guards were downstairs, fighting the fire. If they could just make it to the elevator shaft and out, they would be home free…

"Halt! You there…!"

_Damn!_ In the midst of their success, it hadn't crossed their minds that even a fire alert wouldn't prevent Woundwort from having at least a skeleton crew of sentries patrolling the place. Without thinking, they had walked straight into a pair of thickset Owsla rabbits the size of oafs and just as mean. In an instant, the pair of King-Kongs-with-rabbit-ears were standing in a fighting stance, advancing on them.

Speedwell didn't hesitate. Gently putting down the kittens, he launched himself at the Efrafan nearest to him, head-butting him in the abdomen. Although having the wind knocked out of him for an instant, the gigantic brute was quickly recovering and Speedwell couldn't keep him at bay for long. Meanwhile, his partner, not getting sidetracked by the sudden counter-attack, had cornered the others against the wall, his menacing expression spelling out death to anyone who tried to move. But Jamie still had an ace up his sleeve.

Drawing the loaded flare gun, he fired straight into the face of the advancing guard, who ducked to avoid the incoming fireball; the flare instead found its mark on his partner's turned back, who fell to the floor, howling in agony as the bright red flames engulfed him. Losing his nerve, the guard backed away in horror at the sight of his partner being burned alive, giving Speedwell the chance to tackle him as well. Breaking free of the scuffle, the Watershiper darted for the stairs, calling to the rest of his companions, "Run for it! Go back!"

Knowing they only had a minute before the rest of the Efrafans would be hot on their tail again, the group bolted back down the stairwell, heading for the unfamiliar bowels of the HAB. Their elaborate escape plan was not turning out to be such a success after all…

Meanwhile, Robbins and his associates were inspecting the incinerated mess hall for any signs of Jamie or his friends. It had taken a good several minutes to get the fire under control, which had left the place utterly ruinous; anyone who might have been trapped in here was undoubtedly toast. But no sooner had the last of the flames died down than Woundwort ordered his Owsla inside, to investigate the scene and confirm.

Cautiously, they entered the wrecked galley, now barely recognisable, but found to sign of the outsiders, dead or alive. It seemed they had been completely reduced to ashes, bones and all. Vervain sneered triumphantly.

"Looks like fate has saved us the trouble after all. May those scum rest in the fires of Inle forever!" Like most of his comrades, he figured the boy's group had had some freak accident and perished as a result of their own folly. Robbins however, who had better expertise in the field, having murdered his own parents in a similar manner many years ago, realised something wasn't right. Even if the fire had been hot enough to cremate the bodies – something highly unlikely for a simple kitchen fire -, there still wasn't so much as a whiff of burnt flesh in the air, and cremation always left at least some bone fragments intact. Yet, Vervain had sworn he had seen them go in here and not come out…or had they?

"When you saw them go in, did you see anything else suspicious? Fires like this don't start themselves, much less so suddenly. Were there any signs of trouble? What were they doing?"

"And what exactly was I suppose to see, you fool?" snapped Vervain incredulously, "Anyway, what does it matter? Nobody could have possibly survived that…!" Unfortunately, someone else seemed to share Robbins' sentiments that they may have been set up.

"Then I'm asking you myself, Captain Vervain," growled Woundwort softly, yet dangerously, "What exactly were they doing when you spotted them?" Vervain blanched; he had seen Jamie's party carting all that junk into the mess hall, but, without thinking, had sugar-coated his report, as he often did to impress his master, claiming he had gotten close enough to eavesdrop on them, finding them hiding, desperate and scared, utterly vulnerable. Now, his little lies had caught up with him at the worst possible moment.

"I assumed they were helpless…" he managed to blurt out, shuddering under Woundwort's stern gaze, his red eye twitching in anger.

"You _assumed_?" scoffed Robbins, equally displeased, "Haven't you heard, assumption is the mother of all screw-ups!" Looking more closely, he spotted the blown-up microwave in the galley, with the semi-burnt rags, which had been the bonfire, still smoking on the floor. Whatever had caused this had definitely not been an electric fire! He turned to the Owsla.

"I want every available rabbit to renew the search of the place from top to bottom, room by room, including all AC ducting, all panelling, the plumbing, sewer system, absolutely every last knot and cranny. Right now!" Corporal Coltsfoot, Vervain's new acting deputy following Campion's arrest, turned to his Captain hesitantly; under Efrafan law, other than Woundwort, only an officer could give a direct order to the Owsla. Vervain, still fearing Woundwort's wrath for his little fiasco, glowered at him.

"Well, you heard the man you fool! Get those brainless oafs moving and find that boy!"

As the Owsla hurried out, splitting up into search parties, Robbins turned and saw Woundwort staring displeasingly at him. He knew that look; while once welcomed as a priceless ally, now he was quickly falling out of his favour. Pretty soon, it would be time for him to depart, before this oaf decided he had no further use for him and ordered him disposed off. But he couldn't just return home empty-handed; he had to get back those kittens, which would mean a fortune to him back in the 21st century. And that brat and his cronies toying with them would not spoil his plans…

**Author's note:** I am afraid this is going to be the last update for a while, at least until Christmas. I am leaving to do my army service next week and I probably won't have time or access to a computer to write. However, rest assured that I will finish this story eventually! In the meantime, PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!


	21. Chapter 21 A Watery Tomb

With Robbins and the Efrafan Owsla hot on their tail, Jamie's group retreated back downstairs, as fast as their legs would carry them, heading towards the unexplored sections deep within the bowels of the HAB, hoping to lose their pursuers. Their little prank to make Woundwort and Robbins think they were all dead had backfired big time; now, the enemy was after them again, closing in fast. If they hit a dead end down there, it would all be over.

With the boys carrying Celandine's stretcher between them, they ran, making their way all the way down the stairwell, to Level 4 – to the engineering compartment. Although horribly burdened from carrying the sick doe, not to mention falling behind and increasing their chances of getting caught, they couldn't just leave her, not now that they knew the vaccine they had given her was working, slowly restoring her back to health.

Suddenly, at the foot of the stairs, Kenny tripped, sending the stretcher toppling over and smashing into the railings. Swearing at his friend for his clumsiness, Jamie tried to get the stretcher back upright and keep going, but found one of its wheels had become snagged between the railings. They were stuck.

"Stupid thing, come on, budge!"

Shouting at Hannah to keep the others moving along, the boys and Speedwell continued struggled with the stretcher. Try as they might, it wouldn't budge, leaving the unconscious Celandine trapped, with the Efrafans approaching fast. Sick dread built up inside Jamie, suddenly faced with a terrible dilemma: Celandine couldn't be moved without her stretcher; and if they tried carrying her, she'd slow them down too much, and they'd be caught for sure. So what were they supposed to do?

Speedwell seemed to come to terms with the harsh reality first, as he abandoned trying to help pull the stretcher free and turned to Jamie, "There's nothing we can do. We must leave her…"

"We're not leaving her! They'll kill her…!" Jamie tried protesting, the memory of Nildrohein still fresh in his mind, but the grim expression on Speedwell's face told him it was no use. They had done everything they could for Celandine and more; but this time, they had to finally accept bitter defeat. As Speedwell had said, she was never even meant to make it this far in her condition; but they still had a chance of saving themselves. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he turned to Kenny.

"Come on mate, we've got to make a run for it…"

"No way!" Kenny retorted, "Help me get her out of these! We can still carry her…!" He began hastily undoing the straps to pick Celandine up, but Jamie and Speedwell both grabbed him and ushered him away, just before their murderous pursuers finally caught up. Appearing on the overhead landing, Robbins paused to get a clear shot at them, and the group barely managed to dodge his bullet by darting through a nearby gangway door, which stood ajar at the foot of the stairs, shutting it behind them.

An instant later, Woundwort's Owsla came charging down the stairs. Completely ignoring the semiconscious Celandine still lying strapped onto the wreckage of her stretcher, the savage rabbits, on their Chief's command, moved in for the kill, only to find their way barred by the closed steel door, their angry clawing and pounding sounding from the other side. They had cut themselves off from the enemy once again; but only for a while. With no lock or any other kind of bolt to secure the door from the inside, Jamie realised they only had a moment before Robbins caught up and undid the latch from the other side.

"Keep running, you guys! Don't stop!"

Hurrying along a lengthy catwalk running the full length of the vast compartment they had entered, they saw they were in, what appeared to be, the HAB's engineering section. Towering high as the domed atrium upstairs, the facility's engine room was cluttered with all kinds of heavy machinery, including compressors, dynamos, hydraulic assemblies, reservoirs, and control banks, all connected together by endless lengths of wiring and piping. Rows of railed catwalks and ladders run between the different banks of machinery, providing easy access around for the facility's long-vanished crew. The equipment seemed to be of a very high quality, state-of-the-art technology, only used by government agencies, rarely found in the civilian sector. No doubt, for an engineer, this place would mean more than just a simple powerhouse!

In spite of its former elegance however, the engineering compartment, like the rest of the facility, had long since fallen into disuse; most of the machinery sat dead or broken down, much of it having been cannibalised for parts, covered in the dust and cobwebs of the ages. Only one in three lights were still functioning, running off a single working generator, producing a dim red light, which filled the place, creating shadows and mirages against the derelict machinery, giving it a really spooky atmosphere indeed. In other words, they had found a perfect hiding spot.

Putting a finger up to his mouth, gesturing at his remaining companions to keep quiet, Jamie ushered them into the shadows behind a large water reservoir, and out of sight. Ducking low to hide, the group paused to catch their breaths, their hearts heavy with their latest loss. Although they hadn't actually seen Celandine being killed, now she was undoubtedly back in the hands of the savage Efrafans, from which nobody could possibly expect mercy. As far as logic went, she was as good as lost.

A sniffling Kenny turned to glare at Jamie and Speedwell in silent fury and grief; his friends lowered their heads sadly, not daring to utter a word. There was no point arguing about it; it was either Celandine or all of them. Even Kenny, deep down, knew they had done the right thing; but it still didn't help relieve the anguish and shame of abandoning the doe he can come to love almost like a surrogate mother to her fate, to save themselves. And it still wasn't over.

Peeping from around the edge of the reservoir, they saw the access door slide open slowly; Robbins appeared, aiming his gun, flanked by Woundwort and Vervain. Jamie felt a chill run down his spine; had they found Celandine and were going to use her as a hostage to lure the rest of them out? For an instant, he expected some thuggish Efrafan to appear, dragging their friend by the ears, for Robbins to finish her off in plain view. But it didn't happen. Instead, the murderer cast one more glance around and, seeing nobody, slid the door shut.

Robbins turned to Woundwort, who was calling his Owsla to order. Several rabbits had spotted Celandine and had sprang over to seize her, but stopped dead in their tracks, realising she was infected, giving her a wide birth, weary of supposed contamination. None of them realised she had been treated and was safe, in spite of the strong scent of the disease still lingering about her.

"Keep away from her, you fools! You want to give us all White Blindness?" shrieked Vervain, keeping as far away from Celandine as he could, almost as if afraid the disease would get him first. The Owsla seemed fearful and eager to pull out, but Woundwort's thunderous voice snapped them all back to full attention, their fear of him outweighing their fear of the disease.

"Never mind her, you incompetent fools!" he barked furiously, "The outsiders are in there! Regroup at once and get after them, or so help me, I'll…!" But Robbins interrupted his boss's threats.

"You're playing right into those miserable brats' little game, General," the man scoffed, "Can't you see they're trying to lead us round in circles like little children? Look here…" he continued, taking out some scraps of crumpled paper he had picked up from the control room, which were the schematics of the engine room. Marked clearly on the yellowing diagram were three ways in or out of the engine room: through the stairwell they were standing in; another access door in the opposite stairwell on the far side of the facility; and finally an emergency escape hatch through the elevator shaft.

"Get your gang to circle round and cover all the exits," he said, indicating the two access doors on the diagram, deliberately not mentioning the escape hatch, which he intended to use to make his own escape once he was out of Woundwort's sight. But first, he had to recover his prize the McEwen boy had stolen from him, "I'll go down there myself and chase them out, right into your Owsla's grasp – or I'll kill them on sight if I have to. You just make sure these cretins don't muck it up again." Woundwort nodded in approval.

"Right then, you heard the man," he bellowed, turning to his Owsla, "Split up and station a Patrol at every exit. Kill anyone who tries to escape from below. And anyone who disappoints me this time will be answering to the Black Rabbit of Inle!" One of Woundwort's ways of inspiring constant courage and ruthlessness among his troops was by suppressing their fear with his own terrorising leadership. It was common knowledge in the Efrafan Owsla that falling short in your duties or showing weakness was a punishable offence; and, currently, these meddlesome ithel and their outsider friends escaping them at every turn, was quickly wearing down on the Chief's already thin patience.

Wasting no time, the officers called their Patrols to order and split up, each taking up a guard post at every entrance to the engine compartment, leaving only Woundwort, Vervain, Coltsfoot and Robbins. Robbins turned to his associates.

"All right, I'm going in. The rest of you stay here and cover my back. Anyone comes out besides me, kill him." But Woundwort held him back.

"Wait, Corporal Coltsfoot, you escort him," Woundwort ordered, "Vervain and I will guard this entrance."

Although Robbins had hoped Woundwort would send him down there solo, so he could slip away unnoticed, he knew better than to argue about it and raise his boss's suspicions. Besides, skittish, incompetent Coltsfoot was no big deal; he would simply have to deal with him first once they were out of earshot, and then take care of young McEwen's party. By the time Woundwort would send a reconnaissance party, he would be long gone, and on his way home with his prize. He mind flashed back to when he had tried pulling a similar ploy, trying to escape from Efrafa, only for his plan to be foiled by Alan' party, who had escaped instead. This time there would be no mistakes.

With a nervous Coltsfoot at his side, Robbins led the way into the engineering compartment, brandishing his revolver as he went, leaving Woundwort and Vervain behind to cover their backs. Following the crumpled schematic in his hand, he soon spotted the ladder leading up to the escape hatch at the bottom of the elevator shaft. The time had come to fish or cut bait. He turned to Coltsfoot.

"You go that way and see if you can sniff anyone out, and I'll check the other end. Well, jump to it!" Hesitantly, Coltsfoot obeyed, not realising Robbins was setting him up. Sure enough, no sooner was the young Corporal's back turned, sniffing the grillwork floor for any traces of scent, than his associate was upon him. With lightning speed, Robbins turned his revolver up, grasping it by the nozzle, and walloped the unsuspecting Coltsfoot hard over the head, sending him crumpling to the floor stiff as a board.

Smirking at his success, he stared at Coltsfoot's rigid body at his feet, a trickle of blood running from the back of the buck's head where he had struck him, glad that he had not been forced to fire a shot – not that he cared about not killing Coltsfoot, but to conserve his limited remaining ammunition, which he might need to make it out of here. Reminding himself that he was on borrowed time, and that there was no turning back anymore, he pushed the unconscious Coltsfoot off the edge of the catwalk, behind an inoperative dynamo and out of site, and moved on. _One bird down; one more to go, and I'm home-free…_

Meanwhile, Jamie and his party weren't just sitting idle; unbeknownst to Robbins and Woundwort, their voices carried through the ventilation system, so the group could hear everything that was being said behind the door. Realising the Efrafans would try and circle round and trap them, Jamie and Kenny had quietly scurried around, looking for anything they could use as a weapon. Kenny now stood armed with a heavy monkey wrench he had found in a nearby cabinet, muttering vengeful threats under his breath; if any Efrafan came their way, it would be his pleasure to break every bone in his body, to avenge his beloved Celandine.

Jamie, meanwhile, had improvised a better weapon; by unscrewing the power feed cable from a nearby control bank, he stood beneath the overhead catwalk, waiting to zap the steel grillwork flooring, and electrocute the Efrafans as they came along. Although he had no idea if there was enough power to kill, he hoped it would enough to at least stun their pursuers and snatch away Robbins' gun. If it worked, then, they'd have a chance. Hannah sat perched on an overhead gantry, keeping a sharp lookout

Outlining his plan, Speedwell, Hickory and Marigold had broken cover, standing in plain view at the far end of the catwalk alongside Kenny, his ratchet-club hidden behind a pipe within his reach, in case things got out of hand, as the 'bait'. The haversack with the kittens also lay beside the Owsla buck, which would serve as their 'life insurance'. They didn't have to wait long before Jamie saw Hannah giving him the thumbs up, signalling that the enemy was coming. Not a moment too soon, they heard footsteps approaching, and Robbins came into view. Watching from his hiding spot, Jamie couldn't suppress a smile, noticing he was alone; with only one opponent to deal with, the odds were on their side.

At the sight of the group, Robbins raised his gun, "Small world, isn't it? And I was beginning to enjoy watching your little evasion games trying Woundwort's temper… Now line up so I can see you and don't move!" On Speedwell's reassurance, the rabbits half-heartedly obeyed, cringing at the sight of the deranged man holding them at gunpoint, thinking he was about to do them in any second now. But, as Speedwell had assumed, he didn't, not while they still had his prize.

Sure enough, Robbins' eyes fell upon the haversack and he slowly began making his way towards them to retrieve it. Although, he hadn't failed to notice the suspicious absence of Jamie, he couldn't care less, not when he had his precious prize within reach. Most likely, the boy was hiding somewhere else, scared stiff. He would just leave them all to Woundwort and his Owsla, while he snuck away in the confusion. Unfortunately, like many others of his type, he was seriously underestimating the fact that, in dire circumstances, even children sometimes have a fighting spirit in them. Therefore, little did he realise that he was walking straight into a trap until it was too late.

Suddenly, Robbins' military instinct, developed after many years of harsh training in the top terrorist forces in the world, told him something was wrong. Glancing down at the floor between his shoes, he saw Jamie's grinning face grinning up at him, the sparking cable clutched in the boy's hand. Before he could react, Jamie touched the live wire to the catwalk, causing it to burst into a shower of sparks as the uninsulated steel grillwork conducted the current like an electric fence. The voltage regulators on a nearby circuit panel, where the cable was attached to, exploded, as the system shorted out.

Robbins screamed, erupting into spasms, before crumpling to the floor, electrocuted. A shot flew from his gun as his twitching finger squeezed the trigger, harmlessly bouncing off some nearby machinery, before the weapon slipped from his limp hand. Although the current had indeed not been high enough to fry him, it had stunned him like with an electric baton – and, in their joy of seeing Robbins go down, Jamie's group hadn't noticed.

Jamie wasted no time; discarding the smoking cable, he hurried for the fallen gun, which had landed between some pipes a short distance away from its owner, while Kenny, wrench in hand, sprang at Robbins to clobber him, but stopped when he saw him limp and unmoving, thinking he was dead. Picking the weapon up with shaky hands, Jamie struggled to figure out how to discharge it. He had never handled a gun before in his life and only had a hazy idea of how it worked. As it had just been fired, he knew he knew that the safety catch had to be off, and so all he had to do was load a new bullet from the magazine. Or was it the type with an automatic reloading mechanism?

Before he could figure it out, suddenly, Robbins, as quickly as he had collapsed, was wide-awake and on his feet again. Drawing a concealed knife from his belt, he sprang for his nearest prey: Marigold. Jamie tried shooting at Robbins but the gun, with its disengaged repeater, didn't fire. The doe screamed in terror as the man seized her by the ears, holding her as a shield, the six-inch blade of the knife pressed hard against her throat. Hickory was about to lunge forward to help his mate, but Speedwell held him back, before he could do something he'd regret.

"Very cunning move; and very stupid too," sneered Robbins, slowly backing away from the group, using Marigold as a hostage, "You dumb little brats, you really think I'd fall to some pitiful amateur's booby trap…? Now then, game's over. I'll only say something once and anyone who disobeys or tries anything at all will get to see this charming girl be given a live autopsy! You, boy, put the gun on the floor and toss it towards me. And no tricks."

Although hesitant to comply with this madman's demands, one who was out to kill them anyway, his fear for Marigold's life won out and he did as he was told. The revolver came sliding across the floor towards Robbins, who put his foot on it, making sure nobody tried to make a grab for it when he wasn't looking, while Kenny dropped his wrench on the floor. Smirking triumphantly, he turned to Speedwell.

"Now, you, pick up that haversack and pass it over. Nice and slowly." Speedwell looked appalled; Robbins wanting them all dead to settle his old grudge with Alan was bad enough, but now he was above killing newborn kittens too? Those that happened to be the last remaining link to his beloved Violet? Or was he up to something else? Desperate for some way to keep him preoccupied long enough until he made some mistake that might allow them to regain the upper hand, Speedwell tried talking.

"What do you want them for? Frith of Inle, haven't you done enough already? They mean nothing to you…" But Robbins only sneered nastily.

That's where you're very wrong, my dear fellow," he chuckled, a hungry look in his insane eyes, "You'd think I'd willingly join that brainless Woundwort's forces on a lifelong commitment? Not at all. I merely needed his muscle on my side long enough for me to put your friend Alan in his proper place as he deserved, and then take my leave with my spoils from this escapade. Such a pity I'll be disappointing Woundwort with my 'resignation', after having made such a good impression…"

Jamie's mind flashed back to those solar charger components they had seen in the machine shop upstairs. So that's what Robbins had been working on; he meant to get his glider airborne again and escape back to the 21st century, bringing a sample of this crazy future world back with him, with which he would undoubtedly make an enormous – and dirty – profit. They all glared back at Robbins in disgust, realising he was even willing to double-cross his own associates for his own gain.

"Woundwort will skin you alive when he finds out you've been using him," blurted out Speedwell, who, being Owsla, regarded such a tactic as utterly disgraceful. But Robbins didn't seem the least cornered about the prospect of being discovered as he coolly replied, "What that oaf doesn't know won't hurt him. He never realised I tried double-crossing him back at Efrafa - until your friends came along and spoiled everything. Only I had the brains to salvage the situation before I could lose it, and that idiot Campion took the fall instead when he let his tender heart get the better of him…"

Little did Robbins realise that he was, unknowingly, making a big mistake. Thinking he was safely out of earshot of Woundwort and free to brag about his accomplishments to Jamie's group out of sheer malice before he finished them off, he had no idea that his voice carried through the ventilation ducts, much like through a voice tube, all the way back to the stairwell, loud and clear for his associates to hear his every word…

Meanwhile, Woundwort and Vervain, hearing Robbins's voice from the acoustic effect created by the ventilation ducts, were listening intently, their ears hungry for the outsiders' death cries as Robbins finished them off like the worthless vermin they were.

With Woundwort sitting idly, a faint smile on his face, Vervain looked extremely sulky, overcome by jealousy and spite. No doubt that human would be handsomely rewarded for his latest success by his master, pushing him, Woundwort's favourite – at least, as far as he was concerned –, even further away from the spotlight. Although even he was beginning to accept that Robbins might actually be a great advantage to them, he just couldn't accept any competition. Campion was finally out of the picture; but now, Robbins had taken up his place as Woundwort's right paw ally, rather than him. Why did life have to always be so unfair? Personally, Vervain felt tempted to even sell his soul to the Black Rabbit of Inle, for a chance for glory…

The traitorous confession caught them both completely by surprise. Vervain snapped back to his senses first, his sly mind shouting at him to seize this opportunity of making his way back into the spotlight by having suspected a traitor when no one else had, "You see, General? I told you Robbins was playing us false! He's just another traitor, like Campion!" These words seemed to literally hit Woundwort like bullets, realising his mistake, and feeling his anger skyrocketing. How dare that ungrateful human double-cross him! If word of this got out… With a roar of rage, he rounded on Vervain, who flinched, expecting his master to explode.

"You are not to breath a word of this to anyone, Captain Vervain! Am I clear?" he hissed, giving his skittish officer a murderous stare, "I don't care if you suspected him all along, but I will not be made a fool of, so keep your mouth shut!" Vervain, trembling, still weary of Woundwort giving him a beating out of sheer petulance, nodded, "Y…yes, Sire."

"So, we have _two_ traitors then," Woundwort went on, struggling to calm his nerves and think straight, "But no matter; I will deal with Robbins myself. If he thinks he's one step ahead of me, I'll show him just how wrong it is to challenge the mighty General Woundwort…just as I should have done from the start!" Vervain couldn't help but utter a triumphant smirk at those words. Knowing his master, he'd take care of Robbins nice and quietly, and then he, Vervain, would be the General's favourite once again!

"…All right, enough chitchat," barked Robbins, still holding the terrified Marigold hostage, Alan's Johnson's stolen knife pressed hard against her throat, "Last chance; hand over the kittens or she dies!"

Seeing no other way out of this, Jamie gently took the haversack from the reluctant Speedwell, muttering that they'd get them back later somehow, and slowly passed it to Robbins's outstretched hand. The man swung the sack over his shoulder, a sickening look of success in his eyes. Then, still holding Marigold hostage, he bent down with one hand and picked up his revolver. Jamie froze.

"You've got what you wanted from us. Just let us go, please…" he pleaded, but Robbins only chuckled nastily, aiming his gun at them. As Jamie had feared, this butcher meant to put them up against the wall anyway. His first thought was to shout at his friends to run - only there was nowhere to run. They were surrounded by towering machinery on either side of the catwalk, and by the time either of them could make it to the nearest corner, to duck out of the range of fire, Robbins would have mowed them down.

"Sorry, fellas and girls," he sneered maliciously, "But you've caused a too big a headache to let you walk away. Anyhow, I can't risk you exposing my defection to Woundwort until I'm safely out of here." He turned to Jamie, disengaging the safety catch, "So, you first, young Mr McEwen. How's it going to be? You want to see it coming, or would you rather turn around first…?"

"You, traitor…!"

The unexpected sound of an angry voice caught them all by surprise; turning, they saw a battered and staggering Coltsfoot, whom Robbins had left for dead, glaring at his former associate. After regaining consciousness, having only suffered a minor head wound, rather than going back to the General to report what had happened, fearful that Vervain might accuse him of running and letting the traitor escape, revoking his promotion, in a foolhardy act of utmost desperation, the young corporal had instead resorted to going after Robbins himself. "I'm turning you in to the General…!"

But Robbins, annoyed at the interruption, drew his gun away from Jamie and turned it on Coltsfoot, preparing to finish him off, as he should have done earlier. This, however, gave Jamie's group that second of distraction they needed, and sprang into action.

Jamie lunged at Robbins, grabbing his gun hand, while Kenny, hastily retrieving the wrench, came charging, swinging his weapon at their attacker. The ensuing shot meant for Coltsfoot sailed over his head in a near-miss, as Robbins was thrown off-balance from the heavy wrench connecting with his left shoulder. Marigold slipped from his grip and run, just as Kenny, in a fit of vengeful rage, struck the man again, this time in the groin. With a howl of pain, he sunk to the floor.

"That's for Celandine, you bastard!"

Before any further action could be taken however, suddenly, the scuffle was interrupted by a new noise: an explosion. The fighting instantly ceased, as they all turned and saw Robbins' 'missed' bullet had actually found another target – one no gunman in his right mind would ever dare fire at.

Extending from the large water reservoir hiding them from sight was a large pipe, the size of a sewer tunnel, leading out through the outer wall, to, where Jamie figured was, the river, pumping water back into the reservoir, which, in turn, fed the HAB's water supply system. At midsection was a rack of propane cylinders, used to power some of the machinery. In the midst of his obsession to retrieve his prize, Robbins had negated all sense of caution, forgetting that an engine compartment – even a derelict one like this – was a dangerous place for a shootout, filled with equipment not meant to be disturbed. And his bullet had just struck one the cylinders, shattering the valve, and causing the flammable gas to be unleashed in a fiery torrent, like a flamethrower out of control.

"Run, that thing's going to blow…!"

In an instant, the whole group were scampering to their feet, desperate to get away from that ticking firebomb, before it happened. The burning cylinder suddenly exploded, setting off several more cylinders alongside it in the process, creating a massive fireball and flying shrapnel, which swept the room. The group were all swept off their feet in the blast, as they. Jamie barely managed to roll behind a control bank, shielding him from the shrapnel, hardly registering the form of Coltsfoot sent flying by the explosion. Then the flames began to die down. Just when it seemed the worse was over, a new disaster struck.

With a loud thud, the massive water pipe above the propane cylinder rack, damaged by the explosion, split open, as one of the ancient gaskets between two flanges gave way. Then came gushing out from the split a roaring torrent of _water_. As the HAB was built several feet below ground level, the engine compartment being the lowest section of all, the water was coming in at dangerously high pressure, like a breach in a ship's hull.

Without having even fully recovered from the explosion, the group found themselves facing a new danger: an underground tsunami. Within seconds, the water was sweeping the room, swamping them all. Like bilge rats on a sinking ship, they all turned round to flee, running for the exits, realising the place would soon be flooded. But nature's forces always exceed those of man; before they knew it, the water was carrying them all along, slamming them against the obstructing machinery, or swallowing them up into whirlpools created by the water rushing in to fill up any air pockets in its path.

Robbins struggled against the wrath of the water, grabbing onto anything solid he could reach, struggling to make his way back to the gangway door. Any minute now, this room would be completely submerged; he had to reach the exit and seal that damn door, otherwise the whole HAB would soon be lost…along with his only means of escaping from this world!

Pulling himself frantically along a pipe, he saw the flight of stairs leading up to the door, Woundwort and Vervain still waiting for him where he'd left them. Although he had hoped to have made it out through the escape hatch, and be home-free, at least he had made it out alive, and with his prize. He could always wait for the next opportunity to escape Woundwort's clutches. With great effort, he managed to reach out and grab hold of the railing. But the suction against his legs was too strong for him to pull himself out of the water. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a massive whirlpool, caused by a flooding air duct below, swallowing up anything floating. Struggling not to lose his grip, he saw Woundwort tower over him.

"General, help me! I can't hold on…!" But, to Robbins' utmost shock, Woundwort, instead of rushing to the aid of his most prized servant and ally, glared down at him.

"You sought to betray me, Robbins," he said coldly, his red eye burning with silent rage, "When you came into my service, I made it absolutely clear that if you ever decided to double-cross me, I'd kill you myself! Well, you lies won't help you now!" Despite facing death by drowning on one end and a killer giant rabbit on the other, Robbins didn't lose his nerve. His shocked expression, wondering how could have Woundwort found out, turned to one of cold sneering, as he finally revealed his true colours.

"Yes, that's right, you dumb oaf, I always intended to desert you in the end. I never had any loyalty for your so-call rule to begin with. Such a shame you should figure out now; I had hoped we would part ways on friendly terms. Guess we'll have to do this the hard way…" His hand reached for his revolver in his belt, about to shoot his boss-turned-opponent dead. But Woundwort, having anticipated this move, acted first. With one powerful blow, he cuffed Robbins across the face, sending him plummeting back into the water.

He and Vervain watched as their associate-turned-traitor was swallowed up by the whirlpool, Robbins barely managing to keep his head above water long enough to shout a last threat, "You'll pay for this, Woundwort! I swear it!" Then his head went under and he was gone.

With the water rising fast, Woundwort and Vervain slipped back outside and nudged the bulkhead door shut, keeping the water from entering the stairwell. The rest of the Owsla, hearing the explosion, had also retreated and were fleeing upstairs, yelling that the place was flooding. This time Woundwort didn't even bother chastise them for deserting their posts in supposed cowardice. They were finished here and it was time to pull out.

"What about her, General?" asked Vervain, gesturing at Celandine still lying semiconscious at the foot of the stairs, seemingly dying, "She's still alive…"

"Well, that's unfortunate, because we're leaving her here," said Woundwort coldly. There were also a few of the original outsiders still held locked up below, but the Owsla needn't waste their time evacuating them. They would drown soon, like that little ithe and his friends, and they'd be rid of them. Right now, they had more pressing matters, "Get everyone assembled and ready to pull out. We're returning to Efrafa, Captain Vervain."

"But, Sire," protested Vervain, "What about mankind's legacy? We still haven't found it…" But Woundwort, remembering the three canisters of nitroglycerine Robbins had salvaged, was satisfied. Although this escapade was obviously not an ultimate triumph as he had hoped, the nitroglycerine would still present him with a great advantage in his endless war of conquest. His power to destroy and enslave now definitely surpassed the strength of any enemy Owsla, and that was enough for now. Someday, the moment for his ultimate rise to absolute power would arrive as well, and he would be waiting.

"I said, we're done here," he barked at Vervain, who nodded in acknowledgement, "We still have to find the leader ithe and the outsider Chief. Once we're back in Efrafa, I want all the prisoners interrogated all over again by your Owslafa, one by one, until they tell you what I want to know. Make sure you don't miss anything…"

"Sire, I think I have a way to get information out of those scum," said Vervain, remembering something, "That mad prisoner we picked up here, Cowslip's mystic, Silverweed is rumoured to have the power to read minds, not unlike that troublemaker runt, Fiver. With your permission, I can make him work for us…with some persuasion perhaps…" Woundwort's sinister face curled into a broad smile.

"You've got more intelligence than I gave you credit for, Captain Vervain," he said smoothly, "If this theory of your works, you can expect a promotion as my personal second-in-command." Vervain's sinister laugh of triumph echoed throughout the deserted HAB, as they followed the Owsla back upstairs, towards the elevator shaft, leaving Jamie's party to their watery tomb. Nobody noticed the doe they had left for dead slowly open her eyes, coming out of her fever-induced coma. Celandine was finally waking up…

**Author's note:** Sorry for the long delay, but my military service had allowed me extremely limited writing time. However, now I've been transferred to the Pentagon and I might have weekends off. We shall see. Anyway, enjoy and PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!


	22. Chapter 22 A New Journey Begins

Inside the now flooded engineering compartment, the water had stopped rising, leaving only an air pocket no more that five feet high against the ceiling. Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out, the ancient insulation not designed to keep the power going in an underwater environment. Several phosphorescent floor markers and signs still glowed beneath the rippling surface, allowing some mild visibility. Then, a sign of movement broke the stillness.

Jamie broke the surface of the water and climbed atop a catwalk, previously running at ceiling level, which was now the surface of the water, literally the floor of their new entrapment, dragging with him the semi-drowned Hannah by her tail. Laying the coughing and spluttering mouse down atop some pipes to cough up the water she had swallowed, he hurried back to help the others. For a moment he thought he and his little friend were the only ones left; but then, he saw the rest of his companions emerge from their watery graves, coughing and splattering, gasping for air.

Speedwell emerged first, swimming swiftly and confidently, dragging Marigold, who couldn't swim, by the ears, a shaken Hickory following close behind. Kenny emerged last, struggling to stay afloat, weighted down by their bag of equipment he was carrying. There was no sign of Robbins or the kittens, all of them apparently having been washed away and drowned by the surge.

It didn't take them long to realise that they were trapped; the doorway they had used to get in was now some fifty feet below water, along with any air ducts or emergency exits. Although they had finally lost their pursuers, who had undoubtedly fled to escape the water, they were not going anywhere.

Kenny lit a couple of glow sticks to penetrate the darkness that filled their watery tomb, as they settled down to catch their breath. Speedwell was checking everyone for injuries, a look of shame and outrage on his face. They all knew all too well what was bothering him; he had been responsible for Violet's kittens and now he had lost them. By surrendering them to Robbins to save the rest of them, he had, in essence, sealed their doom, letting them drown with their abductor. For the second time in his life, he had let his beloved Violet down. Although his Owsla discipline forced him to hold his grip together, the feeling of shame and of failure was killing him.

Jamie was about to try comforting his distraught friend, when suddenly Hannah shouted, "Look, there's someone else in the water!" They all turned and saw, what appeared to be, a drowned rabbit's body bobbing up in the water close to the catwalk. As Jamie shown his glow stick close to it, they realised it was Coltsfoot, Robbins' former escort. As they looked, they saw he was moving, indicating he was still alive.

The boys wasted no time; diving back into the water, they grabbed hold of the semiconscious Coltsfoot and pulled him out of the drink. Laying him down flat on the floor of the catwalk to get a better look at him, they saw that he had taken quite a beating. While they had come through more or less unharmed, Coltsfoot, who had been hit by the blast full-force, was in a bad way. Battered and bruised, his fur badly singed and scorched in places from the flash fire, looked much like a bombardment victim.

"Ken, break out the first aid kit… What the hell are you doing?!" Looking over his shoulder, he saw his friend had picked up the monkey wrench again and seemed about to strike the injured Coltsfoot where he lay. "Wait, you don't have to kill him…!"

"Why the bloody hell not?" retorted Kenny sharply, glaring at the sight of the Efrafan officer, whom his comrades had left to die without sparing him a second thought. And Kenny, still feeling vengeful for what had happened to Celandine, wanted nothing less than the pleasure of beating this scoundrel to death in retaliation. "After what he and his buddies did to us today?"

"He's right, we can't burden ourselves with prisoners," snapped Speedwell, feeling just as merciless, "We've got enough problems already…!"

"Captain Campion wouldn't have wanted us to harm him," Jamie insisted, remembering how the sympathetic Captain of Owsla had thrown away his position, maybe even his life, to save them. Although they had been helpless to protect him from Woundwort's wrath then, maybe now they could repay the favour by helping his abandoned comrade. Speedwell's expression softened somewhat, but Kenny continued to stare at the young Efrafan with distaste, yet held his tongue.

Meanwhile, Coltsfoot, whose injuries, although ugly, were mostly only superficial, was quickly regaining consciousness. Chocking up a large amount of water he had swallowed when the surge had got him, the battered Efrafan realised he was now in the hands of the outsiders.

With a gasp of fear, enhanced by the shock and pain of his injuries, Coltsfoot recoiled, thinking his captors were about to hurt him. Although he, like Campion, had never approved of Woundwort's ways, but knew better than to shut his mouth off with the likes of Vervain around, he wasn't exactly trusting of strangers either. And knowing how cruel Woundwort had been towards these outsiders, he expected nothing less than vengeful retaliation from them now.

For a few seconds, they all stared at each other, not uttering a word, before Jamie finally knelt beside Coltsfoot, trying to reason out with him, "It's all right, pal, we won't hurt you…"

"Get away from me, ithe!" screeched Coltsfoot, drawing away from Jamie's hand, as the boy reached out to inspect one of his burn wounds. Realising this was a case more within his element, Speedwell stepped in.

"Settle down, soldier!" he said, calmly but firmly, "Do as you're told and they'll be no need for violence…" Although Coltsfoot seemed to recognise Speedwell's Owsla rank, it still didn't help ease him up one bit, interpreting the Sandleford buck's words as a threat. Reminding himself that he too was also Owsla, and thus, bound by a code of honour to protect his Chief and warren to the death, Coltsfoot regained some of his bravado.

"You won't be getting any information out of me. You'll have to kill me first…" he retorted, trying not to show just how scared he was. During his harsh Owsla training, he had always been warned that the enemy would never spare someone unless it meant using him against his Chief. He half-expected this outsider Owsla veteran to order his associates to torture him or kill him, but he didn't. Instead, the second ithe rounded on him.

"Wake up, you miserable halfwit!" Kenny snapped, "We just saved your sorry arse. If we wanted you dead, we would have just let you drown. And as for wanting to pry any information out of you, I daresay it's a bit too late for that, given that your buddies have abandoned us to die down here – including you!"

"We're trapped," explained Speedwell, finally sympathising with the buck's youth. In spite of his anger towards the Efrafans, he knew this youngster was just another of Woundwort's misled, brainwashed pawns, playing Owsla, with no idea what he was really doing. Perhaps they could change that. "You might as well cooperate with us, if we're going to figure out a way out of this fix, or else you're on your own." The terrible prospect of being left trapped in this strange place, all alone, overrode his pride and Coltsfoot declared a temporary truce. But when Jamie reached out to him to treat his wounds, the young Efrafan corporal viciously clawed his hand away.

"Don't you touch me, ithe!"

"Why waste your time on this riff-raff?" interrupted Hickory, staring around their entrapment, "We're as good as doomed anyway…"

"You don't know that," said Jamie, trying to keep the peace, "Everybody, split up and look for some way out; an emergency exit, an AC vent, anything." Leaving him and Speedwell, who wanted to keep an eye on their guest until they were sure of his trustworthiness, to tend to Coltsfoot, the group split up, combing every inch of the compartment that was still above water, looking for an escape route.

Finally, with some persuasion, Coltsfoot relented and allowed Jamie to treat his wounds. There was some heavy bruising, burns, as well as some bleeding from his head wound where Robbins had hit him, but fortunately no broken bones or internal injuries. Going through the medical kit they had salvaged from the sickbay, he found several tubes of ointments, still good after all these centuries due to their high petroleum content, and rubbed them onto the heaviest of the burns. Coltsfoot cringed painfully under the boy's touch but luckily cooperated without argument, as he felt the pain begin to ease up.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, as Jamie bandaged the head wound Robbins had given him, "I belong in the Owsla of your greatest enemy. Woundwort will stop at nothing until you're all dead or enslaved. What makes you think that I won't deliver you to my Chief at the first given opportunity?"

"Because Hazel-rah believed your people can still be saved from Woundwort's dark influence," Speedwell said, "Why do you think Campion turned traitor in our favour? He wants to bring peace to your warren, a chance for the life Frith intended for every rabbit." Although fighting the urge to retort at hearing his Chief being criticised by the enemy – a blasphemous act as far as every loyal Efrafan was concerned -, Coltsfoot couldn't help but feel somewhat intrigued.

True, before being recruited for the Owsla, to replace a dead Wide Patrol scout, he had been a slave, who lived under Woundwort's tyranny with no rights or privileges whatsoever. At the time, it had seemed that his dreams had finally come true and was determined to prove himself to his superiors. Between Campion's firm mentorship and Vervain's abuse, he had figured out that the right thing was simply to learn to follow orders without question. If Woundwort said someone was an enemy to Efrafa, then, by rule, it was his enemy too. But now, these outsiders, who owed him nothing but hate, were still helping him. Could it be that the mighty and unquestionable General Woundwort, who had knowingly, literally discarding him like he was nothing, was the one at fault?

Meanwhile, Kenny and the others had returned, bringing disappointing news. There was no other way out of here, all of the exits to the stairwell completely flooded and inaccessible. It seemed this air pocket they were trapped in was completely airtight, keeping the water from rising any higher, but also keeping them trapped down here. They were literally sealed alive in a waterlogged casket.

With nowhere to go, the group settled down, waiting for some miracle that would never come. The boys had unpacked their food rations, but hardly anyone was in the mood for eating, knowing that they only had a few more hours to live. Even now, the air was already beginning to taste bad; without some means of ventilation, carbon dioxide levels were slowly building up. Within a day or two, Jamie figured, they'd finish sucking up all the oxygen left in here and eventually asphyxiate.

Speedwell, resigned to their fate, sat chatting with Coltsfoot, telling the young Efrafan his friends' story, figuring that since they were going to die, he deserved to know the truth. Hickory and Marigold sat huddled together in silence, preferring to live out their last few hours in each other's company. Despite their grim fate, it was of some consolation that, at least, they would die free rabbits, free of Cowslip's mad control. Kenny sat with Hannah, sharing a pack of freeze-dried ice cream from their ration packs. He laughed, watching Hannah's eyes go wide with delight as she tasted the ice cream, which was unlike anything sweet or refreshing she had ever tasted before.

Jamie, meanwhile, not in the mood to socialise with anyone, had walked aside, to make a final video recording into his phone. Even if they were to suffocate to death down here, there was a good chance some other time traveller might discover this place someday and find it. With precious little battery power left, he began narrating, what he considered to be, his obituary.

"Day four – or is it five? Anyway, we attempted to infiltrate the HAB but run foul of the Efrafans. Dad and the rest of Johnson's party nowhere to be found, presumably dead. And we're soon to follow; only seven of us are still alive. Still, I suppose we have no regrets… Hold on, what's that?" Something floating in the water had caught his eye. Turning off his phone video, he bent down to fish it out of the water.

It was some soggy sheets of folded paper, its running ink marking the outlines of a schematic; he had found the diagram of the facility, which Robbins had been carrying in his pocket, hoping to find his way out right from under Woundwort's nose, but had lost it when the surge had swallowed him up. Carefully straightening it out on top of a nearby control box and patting it dry, Jamie realised he had just found the key to their escape, as he saw the outline of the escape hatch clearly marked.

Laughing triumphantly, he rushed back to his companions, giddily waving the soggy diagram like his first Playboy. After a minute of brief explanations, the group were all on their feet again, their hopes of escape renewed. Robbins may have done his damn best to kill them; but now, ironically, they would use his otherwise wasted plan of escape to make their own escape from this watery tomb.

Setting off, lighting their way with their glow sticks, they followed the catwalks around the semi-flooded engineering compartment, using the diagram to find their way. It didn't take them long to find the ladder leading up to the small hatchway in the ceiling. Resembling the hatchway through the conning tower of a submarine, and operated by a compressed air valve, this emergency exit, meant for the engineering crew in the event of a fire, was right above their heads, real as day.

"Eureka!"

Climbing up the ladder, Jamie reached for the release handle to break the airtight seal. A short hiss of compressed air was heard and the hatchway burst open. But nobody was expecting the chaos that followed next. Jamie barely had a second to catch a glimpse of the elevator shaft above, when suddenly, he felt himself almost lifted off his feet by the suction caused by a powerful updraft. Without knowing, by opening the hatch, which was vented to the non-pressurised shaft, they had compromised the air pocket.

Before they knew what was happening, the water was rising again, as the air was forced out through the open hatch, swamping them all. Within seconds, it was ankle-high and rising quickly.

"Come on, we've got to move. Everybody up!"

With Kenny helping each of their rabbit companions, who couldn't climb ladders, up through the hatch, the suction hastening their efforts, they made their way out. Just as the last of the air pocket disappeared, they were all out.

Just as it was marked on the diagram, the hatch led up into the bottom of the elevator shaft from where they had come in, all cluttered with the wreckage of the crushed elevator cab. But, unfortunately, there was nowhere to run; walls surrounded them on either side, with no sign of the escape ladder supposedly leading upwards, which had been destroyed by the falling cab. Behind them, the water came shooting out of the open hatchway like a geyser, flooding the shaft.

Jamie and Kenny grabbed hold of the hatch cover, trying to force it shut but the pressure was too great. Within seconds, the water was waist-high, turning the shaft into a swimming pool. Soon, they were all swimming for their lives, struggling to stay afloat against the furious turbulence of the churning water. Looking up, Jamie saw that they were being carried up, towards the upper levels. If they could just make it to the access door above, they could take the stairwell topside.

"Oh, Frith, what's happening?" gasped Coltsfoot, realising they were going up, "Is this our end?"

"No, we're okay," called Jamie, "Everyone keep swimming and stay close together. The water is carrying us back up!"

Soon, the water had reached Level 4. Jamie climbed onto the ledge where the elevator access was and struggled to pry open the slide doors before the entrance was underwater. They wouldn't budge. Drawing his pocketknife, he slid the blade into the crack between the doors, putting all his strength against it, struggling to pry them apart. Slowly, the doors began to creak open. Before he could force them open all the way, however, the water had risen too high, forcing him back into the shaft, before the doorway vanished beneath the surface.

All right, we'll just try at the next level…

Before they could reach Level 3 however, the water suddenly stopped rising; the water had finally come level with the river at the foot of the Down outside, stopping the flooding, but leaving them floating with safety just out of reach. Frantically looking around for the rope Robbins and the Efrafans had used to scale the shaft, they saw it floating loose in the water with them, its end gnawed through, undoubtedly by the retreating Efrafans, to ensure that if any of them survived drowning, they'd be trapped down here for good.

_Just great, now what do we do?_

Jamie and Kenny both tried reaching up to the ledge where the access door to Level 3 was, but it was several inches too high for them. Speedwell and the others desperately tried scaling the shaft walls with their claws, but it was no use. With no stepping-stones, there was no climbing out of there. Meanwhile, Jamie could see his companions, like himself, were beginning to tire from swimming. It wouldn't be long before exhaustion overwhelmed them and they'd all drown.

As they continued staring desperately at the open access door above their heads, suddenly something caught their eye: the shadow of a rabbit walking along the corridor beyond the airlock. It seemed the Efrafans hadn't all pulled out after all. Instantly, the entire group were shouting to attract attention. It didn't matter whether it was a friend or foe; between the Efrafans and drowning, they'd choose the Efrafans.

"Help! We're down here! Is anyone up there?"

Whoever it was had apparently heard their cries as they saw the shadow reappear, approaching the open doorway. In spite of this hope of rescue, Jamie felt his heart sink; even if the Efrafans decided to help them out of there, they would inevitably be taken prisoner, like the rest of Hazel-rah's group. After everything they had gone through to escape, they would be ending up imprisoned in Efrafa, where they couldn't expect much mercy. Even Coltsfoot wouldn't be any better off when his superiors realised he had sided with the enemy. Then the figure came into view, staring down at them. But it wasn't an Efrafan at all.

"Celandine? Is that you, girl?"

Standing on the ledge above them was non other than their lost companion, whom they'd given up for dead back in the stairwell. Although noticeably still frail and weak, Celandine was finally awake, completely recovered from the Myxomatosis. It seemed that after they had left her, she had regained consciousness and made her way back upstairs after the Efrafans had gone. Jamie couldn't tell whose face bore the largest face-splitting grin, as his group realised that they were saved.

Fearing another disturbance could occur at any moment, the boys wasted no time; grabbing the length of floating rope, Jamie wrapped the end into a coil and tossed it up to Celandine. With the doe holding onto one end with her teeth, while using the protruding frame of the access door to anchor herself down, Jamie began pulling himself out of the water, reaching for the ledge. He could feel the rope going slack, as Celandine struggled frantically with her diminished strength to support his weight. But Jamie was quick; before she could drop him, his hand reached the edge of the ledge and he was able to climb out. They had made it back to the very spot where they had first come in.

Grabbing hold of the rope, he began pulling his companions out, one at a time. Soaked, panting and exhausted, Hickory, Marigold and then Hannah were soon lifted to safety, leaving only Kenny and Speedwell to pick up the rear.

"All right, mate, you're next! Come on!"

Before Speedwell could grab hold of the rope however, a new sound was heard from below; something that sounded much like a door collapsing, followed by the gargling sound of a giant bathtub plunger being pulled. Suddenly, the water in the shaft was churning again as it morphed into a massive whirlpool. The submerged access door below them, not designed to withstand such high water pressure, had burst open, so the water was rushing in to fill up the compartments beyond, creating powerful suction.

Kenny barely managed to grab hold of the rope in time, before the whirlpool could suck him under; but Speedwell wasn't so lucky. Before Kenny could grab him, the suction had pulled him into the whirlpool, sucking him under, like loose grit going down a drain hole. Speedwell struggled to swim clear of the suction but it was no use. They all watched horrified as his head went under and he was gone.

"No!"

Grabbing the rope, Jamie tossed it down the whirlpool, hoping Speedwell could grab hold and they could pull him out. But he was gone. Whether he made it to some air pocket before he ran out of breath they had no way of knowing, nor could they do anything to help him now.

The six survivors settled down to catch their breath. The unexpected reappearance of Celandine had momentarily brightened their spirits; but now, the loss of Speedwell had shattered their morale once again. Only Coltsfoot sat slightly aside from the others, his expression neutral, still unsure whether or not he had any place among this group. Turning to look at their returned companion, Jamie saw that, although bloodshed and puffy, the doe's eyes still retained full vision, and her fever had gone down, confirming the vaccine had worked. Although it would take some time until she was fully recovered, she had definitely overcome the horrible effects of the disease.

"You really are a sight for sore eyes, Celandine," said Jamie, as she and Kenny embraced, overjoyed to see each other again, the latter apologizing for being forced to leave her behind during the chase, much to Coltsfoot's amazement. "But how did you know where to find us?"

"That ithe ghost called Hal, who lives down here," explained Celandine, who had come across the facility's A.I. holographic librarian while wondering the HAB alone, looking for a way out, "I told him where we had gotten separated and he figured you might try and make your way back out through here. He also said he had seen Hazel's group pass through this place not so long ago…" The group looked at each other. They didn't know what this 'ghost' Celandine had seen down here was exactly, but it didn't matter now.

"All right, guys, we have to get moving," said Jamie, standing up, "The water might keep rising at any moment now. We have to get out of here. But first, we have to make one last stop. Come on!"

With Jamie in the lead, the group hurryingly made their way down the corridor, through the atrium and up to Level 2, to the workshop where they had seen the replacement parts Robbins had been preparing for the glider. As Jamie had expected, everything was still there, the Efrafans having had little interest in keeping components for a glider that required a human to fly it, whom they didn't have anymore.

Wasting no time, the boys gathered up the solar cell blankets, jumper cables, a spool of cord, and the jelly-rigged voltage adaptor. Grabbing an empty rucksack lying on a nearby table, they hurryingly packed up the lot, as well as Robbins' notes and drawings of how to rig this thing up to the glider, preparing to leave. Jamie however paused for a moment, rampaging through some shelves, pocketing a spool of fishing tackle, a curved strip of flexible scrap metal, a length of sturdy electric wire, the stopper from a small butterfly valve, and a thin piece of straight copper tubing.

"All right, we're out of here!"

"What do we need that stuff for?" asked Kenny, seeing his friend cram all that seemingly worthless junk in his pockets, as he helped Jamie heave the rucksack of replacement parts onto his shoulders (Kenny was carrying their gear).

"It just might come in handy," said Jamie, leading the way out of the workroom. Hurrying back through the atrium, towards the shaft, a new sound stopped them all dead in their tracks: the sound of voices! Turning, Jamie saw they were coming from the control room, where Woundwort had interrogated him only a few hours ago. He hesitated; although he knew they had to get out of here fast, before the place was completely underwater, his curiosity got the better of him.

"Come on, let's check it out."

Striding up the spiral staircase, they entered the derelict control room, crowding around the semi-stripped instrument stations. They didn't take long to pinpoint the source of the voice: one of the inoperable radio receivers at the communications station had been hotwired by Robbins, by bypassing the damaged mainframe with a laptop, allowing them to pick up any outside transmitions. They could hear a faint incoming voice over the semi-functioning radio, distorted by wild static, which sounded very familiar to Jamie. After having come all this way, he was finally hearing the voice of his father!

"…_This is Major James McEwen transmitting on all frequencies. We are remaining on the air for as long as we can. I repeat, if anyone can hear us, you've got to find us! Our location is…"_

Suddenly, a shower of sparks burst from a nearby circuit box, as the radio shorted out, and then the voice died away. Jamie lunged forward, desperately fiddling with the controls on the panel, yelling into the microphone, "Yes, Dad, I hear you! Can you hear me? It's me, Jamie! Dad…!" But the radio was dead.

Jamie sunk into a nearby chair, stunned. So Woundwort and Robbins had been lying; his father was still alive! Given that he was using a working radio, he, and whoever was with him, must have escaped from Efrafa and were now hiding out there somewhere, trying to attract attention from others who might have survived. How he wished that piece-of-junk radio had held on for a few more seconds, so he could have heard their location. Without knowing where to find them, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Still, just to hear his father's voice again, even for a few seconds, had completely renewed his hopes.

"Chaps, the water is coming in!"

At Coltsfoot's shouting, they all looked out through the broken observation windows of the control room and saw the water had indeed risen, gushing into the atrium through an open stairwell access nearby. It was that which had shorted out the radio at the worst possible moment. It seemed Level 4 was now completely flooded so the water was rising up onto Level 3, flooding the HAB like a bottle under a running faucet.

Wading through the swamped atrium and back down the corridor, they returned to the shaft. Even here, they could see the water was rising fast, pouring in through the elevator access. It was already up to their ankles and that this rate, this section would soon be completely underwater. They had to move! Jamie sprang into action.

As part of his plan, he took out the strip of curved metal and attached the length of wire to one end; then, bending the strip between his legs, he secured the other end of the wire, which he had fashioned into a small noose, onto the other end, improvising a bow. Then, taking the thin tube and cutting a gash lengthwise into one end using his multitool file, he stuck the stopper from the butterfly valve into it, improving an arrow. With the other end also cut into a pointed tip, and the fishing tackle threaded through a small screw hole in the middle, he stood ready to shoot.

His left hand grasping his new bow, balancing the arrow mid-section, his right hand pulling the fins of the arrowtail towards his cheek, he aimed skywards. His muscles straining to bend the tight cord far enough, his fingers in agony under the strain of the tightening bowstring, he let go; the arrow shot up the shaft, uncoiling the spool of tackle as it went, flying over the top of the ledge that led back into the warren, where it stuck tight by nailing itself into an overhead root on the burrow ceiling. Kenny and the others cheered and applauded.

Ignoring his friends' cheers, Jamie picked up the other end of the tackle and tied it securely to the end of the rope. Then he turned to Hannah, on his shoulder, muttering instructions to her. Nodding in understanding, the mouse grabbed hold of the fishing tackle, making her way up the shaft. The others stood watching her climb in silence, hoping the line would hold. But their luck held.

Soon, Hannah was topside, standing on the edge of the burrow leading back into the Honeycomb. Following the instructions her human friend was shouting up at her, she detached the tackle from the arrow and began pulling it up, while the boys below continued unwinding it from its spool. Walking over to a nearby pillar of roots, where a length of the rope the Efrafans had gnawed through was still tied, she circled round, trailing the tackle, before walking back to the shaft and lowering the end back down to her friends, improving a crude pulley. Just as they run out of line, Jamie saw the end of the tackle being lowered back down to them. Now they could pull the end of the rope up, so Hannah could secure it for them and then, they would be home-free of this death trap.

"Well done, Hannah! Come on, mate, grab hold! Pull!"

Pulling together, the boys hoisted the end of the rope attached to the tackle upwards, until Hannah was able to grab it. Heaving with all her might, she pulled it up to the pillar and tied it in a knot with its severed piece. Soon, the way up was open again.

Jamie was about to go first, but Kenny stopped him, "Wait, I'll go first on this one. It might not hold and I'm the lightest." True, as a result of his life with his stingy father, who only gave him a small portion of food at every meal, strictly forbidding him any second helpings, sometimes even denying him his meals altogether if he hadn't completed his chores satisfactorily, Kenny was much skinnier and lighter than his well-nourished friend, who had never gone hungry in his life.

"Come on, you duffers, hurry up!" screamed Hickory, trying to reassure the terrified Marigold. The water was knee-high by now and still rising. Time was running out for them fast. Not waiting for Jamie's approval, Kenny grabbed hold of the rope and began climbing.

Lacking the fitness for climbing ropes, Kenny fought tooth and nail to make it to the top, his hands blistering from the rough rope texture he was grasping. At any minute, Jamie expected the rope to come loose or his friend to lose his grip and come plummeting back down, and maybe break his neck in the fall. But Kenny, knowing that everyone's lives were up to him now, didn't screw up and was soon standing on the ledge, home-free.

Readjusting Hannah's slack, amateurish knot to something more secure, he signalled down to the others that they were good to go. Fitting the sling on the end of the rope around Celandine, Jamie gave his friend the thumbs-up. Pulling hard, Kenny pulled the doe up, who flung herself at him the instant she reached the top, nuzzling his face in affection. Hickory and Marigold followed next, this time making no scene on the way up, too eager to finally get out of this place than to care about their fear of heights. With their gear sent up as well, that finally left only Jamie.

Casting one last look at the HAB, which was the last tie with his old life, wondering if he'd ever see the interior of a man-made structure again, Jamie grabbed hold of the rope, making his way to freedom. Unfortunately, he didn't notice the shadow of a certain sinister figure, also looking for a way out, approaching from behind.

"Jamie, watch out!"

Jamie had made it about halfway to the top, when he felt someone jerk the rope beneath him. Alarmed, he looked down and saw a soaked and dishevelled Robbins also making his way up. For the second time in his life, fate had pulled Robbins out of the jaws of death. After being swallowed by the whirlpool, he had managed to make his way out of the flooded sections by swimming from air pocket to air pocket, until he had finally found another stairwell and made it back up to the upper levels, only to find the Efrafans had cut the rope, leaving him trapped. The kittens had also all miraculously survived, an air pocket inside the sack having sustained them underwater.

Thinking the flooding was detained, Robbins had gone back below, searching for something he could use to improvise another way up the shaft. Then, he had heard the water start rising again and spotted Jamie's group emerge alive from their entrapment. Realising they must have a plan up their sleeve, he had kept out of sight, watching their every move from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Realising he was in trouble, Jamie doubled his efforts as he frantically continued to climb, but Robbins, far more fit and experienced than he, could climb fast as an ape and in an instant was upon him. Jamie froze as he felt the madman's arm seize him by the neck, about to throw him off. He could hear the murderer's insane smirk in his ear.

"Leaving without me are you, you little rat? Well, think again, you foolish boy! Nobody is getting out of here but me! Nor Johnson, nor Woundwort could destroy me and you most certainly will not!"

Jamie struggled to breathe, nearly chocking under Robbins' neck lock. Any second now, he would lose his grip and plummet straight into the churning water below, to a watery grave, leaving his friends at the mercy of that murderous psychopath.

Up top, the group were staring down in horror. Their leader was in danger and they were unable to do anything to help him, other than hold onto the rope, now dangerously overloaded and likely to snap at any moment. Below, they saw Jamie losing his grip as Robbins seized him by the hair, wanting him nothing less than dead. And dead he would have been if Kenny hadn't spotted the arrow they had fired still wedged in the burrow ceiling.

Yanking it out, he grasped it between his fingers like a board dart, aiming downwards, where Jamie and Robbins were still fighting. He hesitated; he knew very well that if he missed, he could end up hitting Jamie. But then, he flung the arrow downwards. An agonising cry was heard as the sharp tip buried itself right into Robbins' left forearm – the one gripping Jamie. Finding himself free for a split second, the boy elbowed his would-be murderer hard in the groin, throwing him off-balance. Robbins lost his grip and plummeted downwards, barely managing to grab hold of the rope again partway down. He wasn't beaten yet.

Not wanting to give his pursuer a chance to catch up again, Jamie hurryingly continued his ascend, with an injured but still dangerous Robbins, the arrow still wedged in his arm, hot on his tail. His friends all grabbed hold of him and pulled him out of shaft. Looking down, they could see Robbins relentlessly gaining in on them, an insane look in his murderous eyes. But he wasn't going anywhere.

Casting Robbins a cold glare, Jamie drew his knife, bringing the open blade into full view so that the madman could see what they had in store for him. Robbins' eyes went wide, his efforts to climb out growing desperate, as he realised what Jamie meant to do.

"No, kid, wait! We can talk this out…!" he tried protesting, but Jamie wouldn't listen. This man had lied to them, manipulated them, gotten four of their friends killed, and caused them so much pain and hardship. The bastard would pay! Without hesitating, Jamie attacked the rope, cutting through the knot. Just before Robbins could make it to the top, the rope gave way. With a scream, filled with his swearing revenge, the evil mercenary plummeted back down the shaft, straight into the churning water below.

Jamie nursed his bruised neck, not feeling the least guilt at having just sent a human being to a watery grave. If anything, he felt a deep sense of pride, knowing he had punished the scoundrel who had betrayed his father and Johnson's group by selling them out to the Efrafans. Whether Robbins had died in the fall, or would be left to die a slow, lingering death down there all alone, was fine with them. Either way, they had just seen the last of him.

The survivors emerged from the Honeycomb into broad daylight. The afternoon sun shone down on their dirty, but smiling faces. It felt so good to be finally out of that underground death trap. Jamie lowered his head in silent grief, thinking of Speedwell, Acorn, Nildrohein, and the kittens. But that wasn't important anymore; right now, they had a ride to catch…if it was still there.

Staying alert for any Efrafans who might still be lurking around, the group of seven, consisting of Jamie, Kenny, Hickory, Marigold, Celandine, Hannah and Coltsfoot, made their way down the hill, towards where they had found Jamie's glider the previous night. It didn't take them long to find the disabled aircraft sitting abandoned a short distance away from the northern foot of the Down, on the edge of the meadow. The boys couldn't suppress a chuckle; it seemed the Efrafan Owsla hadn't destroyed it before pulling out.

While the rabbits, only now realising their hunger, went on a quick silflay, in preparation for a long journey, the boys unpacked the solar-cell blankets and spare parts from the machine shop and got to work. Following Robbins' notes, they 'dressed' the wings and fuselage in the solar blankets, taking great care not to obstruct any of the critical control surfaces. The chipped and smudged white paintwork had soon turned a shade of bright silver, making the glider resemble a giant tinfoil hotdog wrapper.

With the solar blankets firmly strapped in place, the boys began daisy-chaining their cell units together by joining the positive and negative cable lead-outs with ring connectors, for maximum current production. The circuit complete, they then hooked up the main positive and negative terminals, fitted with alligator clips, to a rectifier; this, in turn, was jelly-rigged to the end of the spliced voltage adaptor power inlet. This would convert the low-voltage DC current produced by the cells to a high-voltage AC, to power the glider's battery motor.

Then came the tricky part of linking up this homemade power-production assembly to the glider's motor engine, so they could test it out. They was absolutely no guarantee that this was going to work; and if something went wrong, they could very easily end up damaging the glider's electrical system beyond repair, leaving them to continue their journey on foot.

Following a crude diagram Robbins had made in his notes, they began cutting and splicing wires in the motor and battery assembly, linking up the solar cells so that they could directly power the glider, while, at the same time, keeping the batteries topped up, which could take over in the event that the external feed failed. The adaptor and trailing wires were then wrapped together in a bundle with duct tape and taped down inside the motor housing. An electrical multimeter on an extension cable, monitoring power readings, which Robbins had restored using his flashlight batteries, was taped to the sideboard of the back seat.

The repairs complete, Kenny unpacked a small plastic bag containing some safety fuses for the glider's electrical system, which Robbins had gathered by cannibalising pieces of electronic junk from around the HAB. Also uncertain if this hotwiring procedure would work on the first go, he had made sure to have several chances to get it right. Like with all aircraft, the glider's motor starter was fitted with a safety fuse, designed to burn out in the event of a power surge, protecting the motor from irreversible damage. Now that they would be running it on solar power, without knowing the precise current frequency required, they had no choice but to experiment and hope that they got it right before they run out of fuses.

"All right, mate, the show is yours," said Kenny, passing Jamie the four precious fuses they had, "Make us proud." Jamie counted the four cylindrical fuses with shaky hands; only four goes to get them out of hostile territory, or nothing, and it was all up to him now to determine that.

They all gathered round to watch what would happen. Marigold approached Jamie and nuzzled him encouragingly, "Good luck, Jamie. And don't worry. Whatever happens, we still did our best. No matter how this turns out, we'll carry on!" Jamie gave her a loving pat between the ears. Following her sister's violent execution, he figured she would never forgive him for leaving Nildrohein to her fate to save the rest of them. But now, after all the adventures they'd been through together, she had had a change of heart, having finally found the courage of taking control of her own life – all of which she owed to Jamie.

Climbing onboard the glider, Jamie seated himself in his usual seat. With Kenny monitoring the multimeter in the back, ready to make any adjustments to the adaptor if necessary, they were ready for the test run. The bag of fuses open on his lap, Jamie inserted the first one into the small, tube-shaped housing beside the starter switch on the control panel. Cranking the motor mast up and locking it in place, he flipped the master switch on and placed his thumb on the motor starter button. Taking a deep breath, he pressed it down hard.

The panel flickered for a split second as the prop gave a spin and then the fuse burst in its housing from the surge. As they had feared, the current settings were incompatible with the glider's specifications. Replacing the fuse, Jamie called out to Kenny, "Reset it to 12 volts at 40 amps."

Number one.

He hit the starter button again but got only the same result. What was wrong? Kenny did a thorough inspection of the assembly, making sure there were no crossed wires or short-circuits, carefully going over Robbins' notes again and again, in case they had missed something, but found nothing.

Number two.

Jamie sighed in desperation, weary of the low faces of his watching companions. He only had two more tries to get this going, or it was no go at all. What then? They were still deep within hostile territory and stool little chance of getting very far without a ride. Making Kenny cover up all the connections with duct tape, to insulate them, they tried yet again on an even lower current, but, like before, it didn't work.

Number three.

"Goddamn it, what's wrong with this thing?" Seizing the multimeter from Kenny, he studied the readings. The readouts looked okay, except for a small warning mark blinking on the edge of the display. After years of watching his father at work in their garage, playing with electronics, Jamie knew something more about electronic symbols than his friend did. In an instant, he realised what the problem was.

"We've got them in the wrong way, dude," he said, "All right, I need you to detach the adaptor from the motor and swap the lead wires round."

"But we've only got one shot left at this thing!" said Kenny incredulously, "What if it doesn't work…?"

"It'll work. Just do it!"

Although sceptical, Kenny complied and began rewiring the connections. Calling to his friend that he was good to go, Jamie, his hand quivering in anticipation, reached out to the start button, for a final try. _Oh God, please let it work. Let it work…_ Shutting his eyes and holding his breath, he slammed his finger down hard on the starter. For an instant, he expected the see the sparks of the fuse bursting in its housing, but this time, it didn't.

A faint whirring sounded behind him as the motor sprang back to life, spinning irregularly. Jamie instinctively turned to the controls, monkeying about with the throttle, testing the motor's thrust. In front of him, his instruments danced, as the pilot's console slowly rose from the dead like cheap Christmas lights. _Come on you bastard… _

"Yes!"

Cheering and excitement broke out among the spectators as they watched the glider literally come back to life before their very eyes. After coming within an inch of being left stranded here, waiting for the Efrafans to return and pick them up, fate had granted them the last laugh after all. Now, the road was open to them.

"Come on, everybody onboard! Let's go!"

With the motor left running, to recharge the batteries, Kenny helped the rabbits into their usual seating places up on the wings. Only Coltsfoot stood aside, wondering whether this was where they parted ways. They had made it out, so their truce was over. His friends were going their own way; maybe it was time for him to return to Efrafa, where he belonged? The others, thinking along the same lines, looked at him intently.

"Well, what's it going to be, Coltsfoot? Are you coming with us or are you going back to Efrafa?"

The young Efrafan considered hard, caught in a conflict of emotions. Part of him felt that it was madness running off with these outsiders, to an uncertain future; but another part of him told him to ought to think twice before making up his mind. Returning to Efrafa would probably mean simply resuming his duties as an Owsla officer – assuming, of course, Woundwort decided he was clean, after he had made his statement. Although technically he hadn't done anything, he couldn't recall any exceptions in the stature laws about cooperating with outsiders, even in dire circumstances. No, Woundwort's law was clear; any Efrafan associating with outsiders, unless if it involved direct conflict on the battlefield, would be prosecuted for treason. That would almost certainly mean the end of his career.

Of course, he could take his chances and try and keep himself out of trouble by simply lying to the Owsla, claiming he had escaped on his own accord and that the outsiders had all perished. However, if anyone – mostly of all, Vervain – detected a slightest flaw in his story, he would lucky to get off alive. If he knew Campion was still in charge, he could have appealed to him; but his mentor was currently on his way to stand trial for treason. The fact that the two of them were friends would only raise the Council's suspicions of him even more.

On the other hand, he was presented with a rare opportunity here; an Efrafan didn't get the chance to see the world a free rabbit every day, not under Woundwort's dominating, militia law. And out there, Woundwort could never find him and prosecute him on some hearsay. And maybe this time, he could do something better with his life. He thought of Campion, whom he had always looked up to as a true leader, rather than Woundwort; he would have approved of this, betrayal or not. There was only thing for it then.

"I…I'd like to come with you. If you'll have me…" Although he had reached some understanding with them, he still didn't know whether they'd be willing to let him join them. To his utmost surprise, his new companions all smiled in approval, looking almost delighted that he had decided to accept their invitation. Coltsfoot felt his heart soar; for the first time in his life, aside from Campion, he was surrounded by companions whom he could regard as real friends. How he wished his former Captain were here to share this moment.

"Come on then, we have a long way ahead of us."

With Kenny's help, Coltsfoot climbed up onto the wing beside Celandine, where the late Lieutenant Ash once sat, and Kenny strapped him in, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder. Stowing their equipment in the back, he climbed into the back seat, and the boys closed the cockpit canopy, preparing for take-off.

Jamie completed his checklist; all his instruments were green across the board, with the exception of the busted-up radio and the missing ELT beacon. But who cared about those, when it was highly unlikely that they would be finding any use for them whatsoever? Putting on his father's flight helmet and gloves from the chopper, he pumped the throttle to full power.

The glider began taxiing along the meadow, gathering speed. Having learned a few useful tricks from his previous two solo flights, Jamie kept them running at ground level, waiting until they had gathered enough speed to compensate for their large passenger load. Eventually, feeling the aircraft begin to glide, he gently pulled back on the stick and they left the ground.

The glider soared over the trees, its solar-powered motor, now working much more efficiently than on its battery counterpart, racing on full thrust. With that enhanced power, Jamie got them up to two thousand feet, thinking of which course to set. Where do they go from here? Which was their next destination?

Circling round, he spotted the silvery outline of the new river running towards the south, possibly all the way to the coast. The sight of it gave Jamie an idea. Remembering from his father's survival training, people lost in the wilderness should find and follow a river all the way to the coast, where they stood a better chance of finding civilisation. That would be their new destination then.

Adjusting their heading, he set a steady course, following the river downstream. Below them, the now deserted warren on Watership Down slipped away in their baffles. Suddenly, something dead ahead caught his eye. The river split into two channels as they came upon a small, remote island situated right in the middle of the cliff-lined waterway. Close to one end, they could see a strange-looking crater, resembling a quarry, which Coltsfoot pointed out as Efrafa. They had found Woundwort's gloomy threshold.

Looking down into the crater, they saw there was some sort of gathering going on. Even from up there, Woundwort was clearly recognisable, standing atop a raised earthen platform at the warren's entrance. At the foot of the platform, surrounded by the Owsla, Jamie also noticed Captain Campion and some other prisoner he didn't know, facing the tyrant. There was a trial going on; Campion was being convicted for his betrayal. The other prisoner who, unbeknownst to Jamie's party, was Hyzenthlay, an Efrafan escapee and leader of a group of runaway does who had met and joined Alan Johnson's group not so long ago, recaptured at Watership Down, was also on trial for treason.

At first glance it seemed that there wasn't much they could do for them but leave them to their fate. But Jamie, remembering Campion's sacrifice to save them, was determined to repay the favour. He had an idea; it was crazy and reckless in the extreme, but at least it would mean a chance for Campion, if the Efrafan captain seized the opportunity in time. Ignoring his companions' protests not to go ahead with this, he trimmed nose down, going into a steep dive, heading straight the crater, much like a hawk closing in for an attack.

It happened very fast; one moment, the Efrafans were watching the trial proceedings, many with heavy hearts for the popular Campion, but knowing better than to show it publicly, as Woundwort announced the usual death verdict for the two prisoners. Just before the executioners could spring into action however, what looked like a hawk of blazing sunlight fell out of the sky, seemingly in attack.

Blinded by the flash, which was the sunlight reflected by the silver solar blankets wrapped around the glider, all the rabbits scattered, ducking for cover. All except Campion and Hyzenthlay, who, despite having no idea what had just happened, didn't miss the opportunity and sprang away from the confused Owsla, running for their lives. With the Owsla in hot pursuit, they barely managed to make it across the island to Buxton Hall, where, unbeknownst to Jamie, Major McEwen and the rest of Hazel-rah's group, who had managed to evade capture, were holed up, awaiting rescue.

Up in the air, Jamie brought the glider back at altitude, shaken by the stunt he had just pulled, amazed that he hadn't caused any stress damage to the aircraft. Glancing down, they saw, to their greatest satisfaction, their little trick had pulled off; Campion and his fellow prisoner had broken away from their guards and were making a run for it. But that was as much as they could do for them.

Getting them back on course, Jamie followed the river. He had no idea where it would lead them; would they eventually come down in safe territory or another enemy lair? Likewise, he had no idea how long their journey would last; would he even return to his own time or would he and his friends continue touring this future Earth for the rest of their lives? Perhaps they would, until they reached some place they could call home, or run foul of some danger beyond their capabilities and perished.

So far, they had already lost many good companions; the courageous Ash, whose widow doe would mourn him, the caring Nightshade, who had died helping his friend, the rebellious Willow, who had fallen victim to Cowslip's custodians, the loyal Snitter, who had given his life to protect his master, and the dedicated Speedwell, who had died valiantly doing his duty. But no matter what further adventures lay ahead of them, they'd brave them together all the way, as a united group of loyal friends and companions.

Activating his phone video, Jamie recorded one final message: "The search for Dad – and for safety - is still on. I don't know where we're going from here, but we'll keep going until we can't anymore. This is Jamie McEwen, on the fifth day in the new world, signing off…"

Back on Watership Down, in the bowels of the semi-flooded HAB, a soaked and worn-out Speedwell dragged himself out of the water, making his way back up the stairwell to the upper levels that were still dry. After being sucked under by the whirlpool, he had found himself swept along a water slide, along flooding corridors, until he had finally managed to find some solid footing and barely managed to make it to the stairs.

There was no point making his way back to the shaft; the silence alone confirmed that his companions, believing him to be dead, had left without him. He was now stuck down here and all alone…but not completely. Curling up to rest, he suddenly heard a familiar oily voice coming from a nearby doorway, "Misery loves company, I see…"

Turning, Speedwell saw Robbins, who had also survived the fall, holding him at gunpoint. In direct contrast to Jamie's group who had taken pity on Coltsfoot, Robbins, furious at being bested yet again, desperately wanted to kill someone, simply to burn off steam. Speedwell barely managed to duck down a nearby passage, the madman's bullet sailing over his head, missing him by inches. Robbins was tempted to chase after him, and enjoy a spot of sport killing, but he had more important things to do.

"That's right, fur ball, run! Go and say hello to your friends drowning in their cage downstairs!"

Taking his mind off Speedwell, he made his way back to the control room, to try and repair the radio. Since he couldn't get out of this hole on his own accord, he had no choice but to wait and hope for rescue. Tenderly, he placed the bag with the kittens on the chart table, beside Drake's journals. If he got out of this, he would be returning home triumphant! And help did indeed arrive the very next day. It would be from here that he would pick up Max Pete's distress signal and guide him to the HAB, to get him out.

After giving Robbins the slip, Speedwell made his way back downstairs on a new mission. Hearing Robbins' taunting words, the trooper had realised something he and his companions had forgotten all about: the prisoners that Woundwort's Owsla hadn't moved in time. Some of his friends were still down here, including Violet's kittens, whom he now knew were still alive, but in Robbins' custody.

The arrival of Alan's rescue party the next day was a Frith-sent miracle for Speedwell and his companions, who were eventually freed from their cage. Unfortunately, Speedwell was shot dead in the ensuing conflict, before he could tell anyone about Jamie. Robbins escaped but was too late to make it through the Aurora, to his home time, before it receded, sealing up the time portal forever. Stranded for good, he tried taking refuge at Cowslip's warren with Vervain, who fled Efrafa after Woundwort's downfall. But ultimately, he was hunted down and killed in a hand-to-hand combat with his nemesis, unbeknownst to anyone, taking the secrets of Drake's journals to the grave with him, leaving someone else to rediscover the secrets of the new world…

**Author's note:** And this is the conclusion of the in-between events that occurred in parallel with the first story. From this point onwards, we pick up after the epilogue of book 1, and shift back to the original characters. Coming up next, we pick up in 2017 London, four years after Alan's departure, introducing a couple of new characters… I suggest you go back and reread the ending chapters of the first story (which I am currently proof-reading, by the way), so you don't get confused. The next update I am afraid might take a little while, so I can proofread what I've written so far. In the meantime, enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	23. Chapter 23 Stonecrop

**June 19****th**** 2016, London**

The early summer weather had turned the heavy London air hot and dry. With the gradual climate changes taking their toll on the planet, the city, from the centre to the suburbs, was baking hot and asphyxiating from the air pollution caused by the exhausts of hundreds of cars on the road. Families were leaving town, on their way to their summer resorts, to enjoy a pleasant holiday. But that was only in the case of the few lucky ones - those who still had proper jobs and income in the midst of the fragile global economy.

In a cheap, run-down neighbourhood in the East End, a young woman was making her way down a side street, just off Brick Lane, to her home. Samantha Fields, commonly known as Sam, was anything but preparing for a joyful summer holiday. Striding through the litter-strewn parking lot of the old block of flats, run by the council, where she lodged, carrying her shopping, she made her way upstairs, to her rickety 10th floor apartment.

Sam's family were from Cardiff, Wales, but had moved to London when she and her twin brother, Ronald, were still babies. Left battling poverty after her father, a former construction worker, had lost the use of both his legs from a falling girder at a construction site, her mother, a nurse, had found it impossible to raise both her children and care for her disabled husband on her meagre salary. And so, when the twins had just turned two, a difficult decision was made: Ronald was given up at an orphanage for adoption, leaving Sam as an only child.

Years later, by the time Sam was in her late teens, the family had recovered financially and rebuilt their lives; Sam's wish of going off to university had come true. As for her brother, her parents, ashamed of abandoning their own son, had never attempted to find out what had become of him. To them, Ronald was just a shadow of the past, which they ought to forget ever existed. Hopefully, he had become part of another loving family and was leading his own happy life somewhere.

For a while, it seemed the family had finally risen from the ashes and made peace with their past. But then, some fourteen years ago, when Sam was still a student, another tragedy had torn the family apart again. Sam had returned home, after receiving an urgent call, to find both her parents brutally murdered in, what apparently had been, a violent break-in. With no more financial support, and all alone in the world, Sam had been forced to cut her studies short, set her parents' affairs in order, and set off to find her long lost sibling. This was her one remaining purpose in life, which gave her the strength to carry on.

For the next ten years, Sam had travelled around the country, moving from town to town, earning her living through short-lived, meagre jobs; as a cleaner, concierge, scooter mechanic, car park attendant, supermarket cashier, model, and even as a bicycle courier. Although living, literally, off the grid, in cheap motels or run-down boarding houses, she somewhat enjoyed this rugged life, always holding onto the dream of reuniting with her brother someday.

Her wanderings had finally brought her back to London, empty-handed, where she worked as a private courier-to-hire to this day. Unfortunately, with the recession still rampaging the country, her job attracted few customers, turning her life into a daily struggle to make ends meat. Down on her luck and lonely, Sam had been reduced to a lifeless shell. Then, one day, three years ago, while delivering a package to Hampshire, she had made a very special friend.

Opening the door to her apartment, she was greeted by a familiar, powerful furball with long ears, which jumped into her arms, catching her by surprise. Sam dropped her shopping, narrowly avoiding being knocked to the floor under the giant rabbit's massive weight.

"Stonecrop!" she scolded her flatmate and one and only friend in the world, "For heavens' sakes! How many times have I told you not to do this?" The rabbit stared up at Sam with an ear-splitting grin.

"Hallo to you too, Sam. So how did it go?"

If a stranger had been standing in the room at that moment, he would have undoubtedly freaked out at seeing Sam's 'pet rabbit' actually _talk_. Sam, on the other hand, didn't show the least surprise at this strange phenomenon, treating it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Nonetheless, Stonecrop was no ordinary rabbit, whose origins remained a total mystery, even to Sam, from the day she had found him, three years ago…

_**October 11**__**th**__** 2013**_

_It was a cloudless, moonlit night in mid-autumn. The early chill of the approaching winter could already be felt by the young woman riding her bicycle along the deserted country road. Sam Fields was returning from an errand to Whitchurch, on her way to her hotel in Newbury, to catch the train back to London in the morning. The five hundred pounds she had been paid from this latest delivery were safely tucked in the zip pocket of her worn-out anorak. All that trouble, so she could just pay the rent on her new flat and maybe cover her living expenses with whatever was left… Not a penny to spare for her own enjoyment; no new clothes, no cinema nights, no excursions, nothing. But she would manage._

_After ten years of searching in vain for her brother all around the country, Sam had given up and returned to London, hoping to start over. After ditching her dominating, semi-abusive boyfriend, she had taken up residence in a small council flat in the East End. With a local post office helping her find customers every now and then, every day she's cycle around on errands, delivering registered packages to earn her meagre living. But the sense of loneliness in her life was killing her; ever since her parents' deaths, she didn't have a friend in the world, not a single familiar face to seek comfort from in these troubled times. Little did she realise that all that would change that very night…_

_Tired and lost in her miserable thoughts, she was suddenly caught off-guard by the screeching of tyres behind her. Moving at breakneck speed in the dead of night and without lights, the car barely missed her as its unknown driver made an evasive turn without slowing down or even honking his horn. That was a big mistake. The vehicle skidded and flew over the edge of the road, cartwheeling down a slope and into a ditch. Then Sam was nearly knocked off her bike again by the ensuing explosion, as the vehicle burst into flame._

_In a state of shock and confusion, relieved that, by a miracle, she wasn't dead herself, Sam pulled over, staring in horror at the overturned car, now resting against a tree, burning. There was no doubt that whoever was inside was dead, either killed in the crash or barbecued alive in that inferno. _

_Oh, my God, I killed him…!_

_Horrified by what had just happened, Sam turned round and retched. Although she obviously wasn't to blame, given how this lunatic had been speeding blindly in the dark, almost as if running from some pursuer, the thought that this might not have happened if she hadn't been in the way, was tormenting her down to the utmost depths of her soul. That was why she didn't notice the car's single surviving passenger, a man whose face was hidden behind a black mask, like Zorro, who had been thrown clean from the vehicle before it exploded, pull himself up from the ground nearby. Grabbing a sealed metal box of some kind lying beside him, he turned and fled into the bushes and out of sight._

_Suddenly, something else caught Sam's attention; something that sounded like crying - baby crying. Horrified, thinking there might have been a baby onboard, she forcibly pulled herself together and approached the burning wreckage. Scattered papers and disks lay all spilled all around the wreck, amidst shards of broken glass from the vehicle's shattered windows. Sam couldn't tell for certain, but it looked like material from a lab, judging by the writing on the papers. Among all that junk was a battered, plastic box, of the type used to transport small animals. Inside it, something was crying out, wailing loudly. _

"_Mama…mama…" _

_Thinking that the driver might have been some psychopath who had locked the child in a cat box, Sam rushed over and forced the cage door open. But it wasn't a baby in there at all. Sam pulled out a battered and bloodied hutch rabbit. What was this? _

_For a few minutes, she stared in confusion at the trembling rabbit in her arms. She was so sure she had heard a baby crying; but there wasn't another soul in sight. Perhaps the shock of the accident was making her hear things? Then she heard it again – the rabbit in her arms was talking!_

"_Mama…mama…"_

_"Have I gone mad? Yes, I must have flipped my marbles… This can't be real…!" With a gasp of shock, she dropped the rabbit, backing away in surprise. What was going on here? Was she dreaming? Or had this strange rabbit, which, she now realised, was in fact an enlarged rabbit kitten, no more than a few weeks old at best, actually spoken? Where had it come from? Who were these men transporting it in their car, and what were they running from?_

_The answer to that question suddenly came in the form of police sirens in the distance, approaching fast. Whether someone else had seen the explosion and sent out an alert, or the men had been running from the police - the latter most likely, given their erratic driving -, Sam didn't know; all that mattered now was to get out of here fast, before she was caught nosing around a potential crime scene. Being taken in for questioning was the last thing she needed, as it had technically been she who had sent the car flying off the road. _

_She was about to take to her heels and go, when she remembered the talking rabbit. The poor creature was still lying there, amidst the scattered papers and broken glass, crying out for its non-existent mother in its baby voice. Sam's first thought was to leave it right where it was; these men, whoever they were, had already died over this freak of nature, and she needn't bring trouble upon herself. But, on the other hand, freak of nature or not, she couldn't just leave the poor thing here all by itself. _

_Making up her mind, Sam scooped up the rabbit into her arms again and tucked it under her anorak; she felt the little thing curl up, boring into the warmth of her body, looking content. Mounting her bike, she took off, taking the rabbit with her. Not a moment too soon, the police and the Fire Brigade arrived on the scene, finding nothing but a wrecked car and a couple of dead bodies, the thieves' prize mysteriously missing…_

_Taking the rabbit back to her hotel, Sam cleaned up its wounds and fed it using kitten replacement milk in an eyedropper she had bought from a local drugstore. Having absolutely no experience in caring for animals, it took a couple of days of trial and error before the rabbit was eating properly again and was soon restored to full health, his size and his inexplicable human intelligence quickly growing._

_Bringing him back to London with her, she continued caring for him, while keeping her newfound friend, whom she named Stonecrop, a secret from the outside world, fearful that if word of his intelligence got out, someone would come and take him away from her. In spite of the extra expenses to keep him, she had grown too attached to ever part with him, raising him like her own child. But the mystery surrounding his place of origin still remained unsolved, as did the whereabouts of her long lost brother…_

Sam hugged Stonecrop back, boring into the warmth of his soft fur, trying to ease up the disappointment from her visit to the Council Chamber that morning. "I'm sorry, Stonecrop. They refused to extend the rent any further. The eviction notice still stands; if we don't pay the full thing within a fortnight, we'll be out on the streets…" She held back a sob, knowing that she would have to be strong for both of them. Truly, things weren't looking good for them at all. She hadn't had a single client in six months, and her unemployment pay registration had expired last week; that left them with no way of getting that rent money in time, short of begging or selling what precious few worldly possessions they had. And there was another problem to think about.

Ever since taking him in, Sam had always taken great care to keep Stonecrop's talking abilities a secret, to keep him safe. In his early years, it was simply a matter of keeping his mouth shut in public, and he would easily pass for an ordinary pet rabbit wherever he went. Sam would take him on walks to the city parks, excursions to the seaside and even on some of her errands out of town. But now, Stonecrop was getting too big to venture out in public, without attracting unwanted attention; at the age of three-and-a-half, he was already the size of a Flemish Giant and still growing. At this rate, within another year or so, he'd reach three quarters the size of the average human being. And, pretence or not, a human-sized rabbit was bound to attract the attention of the authorities soon or later.

Although it had crossed Sam's mind before that Stonecrop's growing size, not to mention his talking abilities, might be difficult to keep a secret forever, she dreaded to think what might happen if the world ever found out about her furry friend. At first thought, one would think that revealing Stonecrop to the world might actually be a good idea; no doubt it would make them both worldwide celebrities, maybe earning Stonecrop a place in the Guinness World Records, not to mention ending their financial struggles forever. But Sam, having experienced the harshness of society first-hand, knew better.

The secret of Stonecrop coming out would undoubtedly also attract the attention of the less friendly type, including politicians and scientists, who might try and take advantage of her friend, to satisfy their own selfish ends. And Sam, who respected Stonecrop as an equal, would never stand for him to be used as a show thing by people who enjoyed making other people miserable. On the other hand, pretty soon, she would have no choice but to confine Stonecrop to the house, maybe for the rest of his life. And that is, if they weren't chucked out by the Council first... But what could see possibly do?

For the past three years, Sam had been searching frantically for any leads to determine Stonecrop's place of origin; her searches online, in libraries, bookshops and newspaper agencies had all come up fruitless. It was almost as if Stonecrop didn't even exist; there wasn't a single scrap of information explaining his background. Strangely enough, even the mysterious car accident, which Sam had witnessed with her own eyes, didn't exist on record anywhere, apparently covered up by someone deliberately. And while it somewhat comforted her to know that no one on the outside knew of her secret, it left her at a total loss about what to do to protect her friend. Dark times definitely lay ahead for the both of them.

The pair walked into their tiny kitchen, Stonecrop helping his foster mother put the shopping away. As usual, Sam could only afford the semi-expired trash from the supermarket clear-out section to feed them; but at least they wouldn't go hungry.

"So what have you been up to, today?"

Stonecrop, who had been nibbling at some stray crumbs coming from a box of broken oatcakes behind her back, gave her a mischievous smile, "Oh, you know, the usual; chatting online with John and Beck about the game. You know Manchester United scored ten times today...?"

"You haven't been broadcasting yourself on camera again, have you?" Sam asked, rather sternly. Although Stonecrop realised the importance of keeping his true nature secret, sometimes he couldn't resist being reckless. Once, when chatting online with his e-friends, which was all right as long as they couldn't see his face, he had switched on the camera for a joke, freaking out the boy on the other end. Fortunately, Sam had been in the room at the time and had cut the video feed before any real damage could be done, before giving Stonecrop a sound scolding. Another time, while walking in the park, where he was supposed to pass for a normal rabbit, Sam had caught him whispering behind people's backs, amusing himself by their inability to pinpoint the source of the voice. Sam had administered a spanking, threatening to ground him if he ever did something like that again. But, no matter how seriously Stonecrop took his safety, deep down, Sam knew she couldn't possibly keep him hidden forever...

Putting the last of the shopping away, she took out a battered-looking book from her purse, which she had bought at a local charity shop, and showed it to Stonecrop, "What's that?"

"Early birthday present for you, Stonecrop," she said, tenderly scratching him between the ears, as she handed him the book, "I thought you might like it better than _Peter Rabbit_. A lucky buy, considering the shopkeeper was willing to give it away for only five quid..."

Stonecrop stood on his hind legs, to get a better look at the book on the kitchen table. It was a worn-out, tattered paperback copy of Watership Down, which looked like it had seen several generations of owners. Little wonder it wouldn't sell for a penny. The humanoid rabbit's face fell at the sight of the famous group of rabbits on the faded cover.

Sam was quick to notice his saddened face, "Stonecrop, what's wrong?"

"It's just..." Stonecrop muttered lamely, unable to get the proper words out, "Never mind, it's nothing..."

All his life, Stonecrop, although reasonably happy living in the human world, had a secret burden because of the inexplicable thing, without a past, that he was. Being literally the only one of his kind was a miracle, but also a curse. Like Sam, he had always wondered, where did he come from? Who had brought him into this world? Why weren't there others like him? As he grew older, the feeling of loneliness, of alienation, only grew worse. In all fairness, in this world he was no more real than the story in Richard Adams' masterpiece any way he looked at it. And it hurt, bad.

Realizing her mistake and feeling for her friend, Sam sighed. How she wished she had the power to ensure a pleasant future for the both of them. Unfortunately, that prospect seemed just as non-existent as her long-lost brother, wherever he was...

Later that evening, Sam sat in a rickety plastic chair on the flat's tiny balcony, trying to escape the heat and stuffiness of indoors, reading. Stonecrop lay on the twin bed they shared inside, surfing online on Sam's ancient, second-hand laptop. Although he had received a good primary education, with Sam as his teacher, it was still a problem for him to write without hands or fingers. This problem had been solved by a pair of straws with padded tips, which he wore on the middle toe of each forepaw, like artificial nails, which he used to tap the keys and touch-pad on the computer. With some patience and practice, like an amputee with prosthetic fingers, he had become skilled in typing away using his prosthetics, allowing him to make the most of his human education.

Finding no promising job opportunities available in the column, she tossed the newspaper away and picked up the untouched copy of _Watership Down_ sitting on the coffee table beside her. Her hopeless job hunting could wait for tonight. She had a whole weekend to renew the search, and maybe something would come up. If worse came to worse, as a last resort, she'd sell her courier bicycle, which she always kept in pristine condition. Although a sad predicament, maybe if she bargained hard enough at the pawn shop, she might get enough money to pay the rent, buying them another month under this roof, to try and make some plans...

Opening the book, she frowned at the wretched condition the pages were in, just like the cover. Every inch of blank space was filled with curious notes and annotations, apparently made by the previous owner, probably a student. Outright desecration of a good book, Sam thought in disapproval, but, at least, it was all in pencil, rather than ink, so it didn't obscure the print.

As she made her way through chapter one, she happened to glance at one of the annotations, which had an arrow pointing at a footnote on the bottom of the page. She read aloud: _"Day 1: Still no sign of rescue. It was then, while scouting the area for food that I stumbled across the most amazing discovery of my life: a warren of humanoid, talking rabbits, which have somehow 'adopted' the social, religious and linguistic aspects of the universe of Mr Adams' grand tale as part of their world..."_

Humanoid, talking rabbits...? Sam's heart skipped a beat as she read those words a dozen times over, wondering if she had somehow misread it. But no, it was right there, before her eyes; what she had first assumed were just some insignificant student's notes, were in fact, what seemed to be, the contents of a secret diary of sorts, hidden within the book. And, this diary detailed the previous owner's encounter with some _humanoid, talking rabbits_ - rabbits like Stonecrop!

"Can this account be genuine?" Sam wondered, not sure whether to feel amazed or stupid, "Maybe it's just some geek fan's material for a good fanfic or something...?" Taking her mind off the original story completely, she turned all her attention to these mysterious diary entries, which, she noticed, were written in parallel with the text, almost as if the writer had been comparing his adventures with similarities in the book. The read on a little further. The entries looked serious and too-well detailed to be made up. It didn't seem to be some coincidence... But who could have written all of this? And where did this happen?

Flipping back to the front page, he saw a name scribbled on the back of the cover, with the owner's address beneath it:

_**'This book is the property of Alan Alexander Johnson.'**_

**Author's note: **As a reminder to continuity, in the first story, Alan had written down his memoirs from his first journey into the future in his _Watership Down_ copy, but then, he had lost it when Sven had blown up Hotdog's shop. Afterwards it was salvaged from the rubble by one of the council workmen, who had sold it, until it ended up in Sam's possession, who has a good reason to believe the story because of Stonecrop. The origins of Stonecrop will be explained later on, unless you've already guessed it... Enjoy and please review!


	24. Chapter 24 Picking Up the Trail

Sam ended up spending the entire weekend going through the mysterious notes Alan Johnson had left behind in his book. Her job hunt entirely forgotten, she and Stonecrop, who was just as intrigued by this strange discovery as she was, struggled to make heads or tails of the man's account of his adventures. Were they dealing with the words of some fantasying nutcase or the real thing?

An online search had yielded plenty of information on this Dr Johnson, now deceased, who had been a zoology professor and former marine. His _Wikipedia_ biography detailed the murder of his wife and daughter in 2011 by the now long-disbanded Red Hand Brotherhood, after being unknowingly entrusted with evidence that could compromise the terrorist faction and its plans for a mass strike against world powers by means of a secret weapon-satellite. A year later, another attempt was made on the widowed professor's life, by framing him for murder, to bring him within reach of Red Hand's undercover assassination network within the government.

Forced to flee into hiding, Johnson had somehow unravelled Red Hand's plot to kill him and embarked on a solo mission to take down the faction on his own. Like Dr Richard Kimble, alone and on the run from the law, Johnson had managed to thwart the faction's intended strike, resulting in the destruction of the safe house, and the demise of the entire faction's inner circle, but at the cost of his own life.

Posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross for destroying the Red Hand Brotherhood, to this day, Johnson's name was remembered in a far better light than what it had been prior to his death. One of his former colleagues, Sir Cole Drake, who had assisted him in his plight and later testified against the Brotherhood in court on his behalf, helping in the apprehending of the rest of the faction's undercover members, had also been knighted for his role against Red Hand. The latter had later published a book called _Alan Johnson; A Fugitive's Quest for Justice_, detailing his own account of being hunted down by Red Hand, who had taken his family hostage, and his and Johnson's combined efforts to accomplish the impossible. However, there wasn't the slightest mention of Johnson ever having encountered any intelligent, talking rabbits anywhere.

Stonecrop had soon dismissed it as a fake, but Sam, carefully examining the written account against Johnson's biography and the newspapers, hadn't failed to notice that the parts of his encounter with the humanoid rabbits, which had apparently taken place in the _future_, fitted perfectly within the gaps in his story – the stage when he had mysteriously gone missing and presumed dead in a plane crash.

According to the account, after accidentally time-jumping whilst flying over the New Forest dead zone, where the 2012 Aurora had been, Johnson, his friend Dr Derek Shaw, and the murderer of his family, Russell Robbins, who had returned to finish the job, had found themselves stranded in a post-apocalyptic future world of giant, humanoid rabbits - rabbits like Stonecrop. At some point, Robbins had been unmasked and forced to flee, eventually teaming up with a certain General Woundwort, the leader of a hostile, militia warren; using his faction's still-functioning EMP satellite, he had gone into a murdering frenzy, unleashing a catastrophe, from which only Johnson and five of his rabbit friends had escaped alive. Bringing them back with him to the 21st century, using all the information he had gotten in the future, they had set out together to change the past by eliminating the very seed of the destruction of their world: the Red Hand Brotherhood itself.

Apparently, their mission had been a success, just like it had been reported in the media. The account then picked up, in the aftermath the Brotherhood's demise, explaining how Johnson, who had simply been _presumed_ dead for a second time, had made plans to return to the future with his rabbit friends and several human companions, to stay, and rebuilt civilisation. The final entry, dating two days after Johnson's second supposed death, read: _"Tonight's the last night. Tomorrow, we fly. Soon, we will finally know whether our gamble of tempering with time has actually paid off. All our prayers go to our friends, who needlessly died over this business, and which we hope to see alive again on the other side. God's – or should I say Frith's? – speed to us all."_

Putting two and two together, Sam had finally come to two conclusions: either the account was a well-written fake, or it was genuine. And the only way to find out which it was, she would have to retrace Alan Johnson's footsteps, with nothing but these notes he had left behind to guide her.

Her first attempt was to try and get in touch with any of Johnson's old friends or acquaintances, anyone who had known him well enough to give her a lead. Although it was relatively easy to dig up the phone number of Johnson's in-laws, the parents of his wife, who lived in another part of the country, the instant the father realised what she wanted, he had rudely hung up on Sam, muttering how they didn't have anything more to do with their late son-in-law, who had led their daughter to her death with his carelessness. Scratch any surviving relatives, who still held a grudge.

Next, Sam had tried contacting the orphanage where Johnson and his brother had lived as an adolescent, following the death of their father. Unfortunately, the new head of the place informed her that his predecessor, Father Herbert Campbell, who had known Johnson twenty years ago, had long since retired and recently passed away in a nursing home. Just another dead end. Likewise, Johnson's old university, where a few of his old colleagues, who had barely known him, still worked, proved just as fruitless. It seemed anyone who had known him real well was either long dead, or could not be traced. A real ghost hunt, as far as Sam was concerned.

And so it was on the following Monday morning that Sam found herself making her way to Alan Johnson's old neighbourhood in Chelsea, following the address in the book, with Stonecrop tagging along. While Sam cycled along King's Road on her bicycle, towards Drayton Court, Stonecrop followed behind on foot, easily keeping up with his swift-moving legs. Although Sam had made sure they made an early start, before anyone was about, she still got a few curious glances from the few passer-bys they met on the way. Her stomach bottomed out each time someone would turn to stare at her furry friend in amazement, all the while pondering on what life would be like for him in a few months, when he'd be too big to go outside without attracting attention…

Johnson's Drayton Court apartment was still there all right; the old block of flats, built in the early Edwardian era, once dark and semi-abandoned, had since been renovated and modernised, its derelict apartments sold to new families that had moved into the neighbourhood over the years. Maybe Dr Johnson's home had also been sold away and no longer existed? They would just have to see.

Chaining her bicycle to a stand on the edge of the sidewalk, the two of them made their way up the marble-pillared porch of the block. The front door, which had a sign of available apartments for sale plastered on the glass, stood ajar and they entered. In a hallway, they met an old, grizzle-haired man, a janitor it seemed, who was mopping the floor. He turned to greet them, giving Sam a toothless smile.

"Howdy, young lady," he said, with a deep voice like a bagpipe, "Can I help ya?"

"Eh…" Sam hesitated; she wanted to ask where Johnson's apartment was, but knew better than to let this old coot know where she was going. What she and Stonecrop had in mind was technically called breaking into someone else's home, and this old janitor would probably send them away if he knew. "Just visiting a friend, thank you…"

"Visiting the vet?" asked the janitor, staring at Stonecrop in a way suggesting that he was secretly imagining just how appetising a rabbit this size would look like cooked into a casserole, "Mrs Finnegan's place is Number 2 upstairs, opposite Dr Johnson's old place…"

"Alan Johnson?" asked Sam, seizing the opportunity, "Did you know him, Mr…?"

"Hanson. Gordon Hanson," said the man, shaking hands, "I took over as concierge following my late sister Emily's death a few years back. She knew Johnson and his family real well, the old lass…"

"So his home is still here, then?"

"Why, yes, his estate executive keeps it well maintained and untouched," said the old man, suddenly getting suspicious. No doubt he had had to deal with many Johnson fans come nosing around, "I've just been upstairs, cleaning that ruddy place… Why?"

Nothing, just curious," said Sam quickly, before the old man could catch on what they were really here for. She was glad when he bid them good morning and moved off with his cleaning cart, leaving the coast clear. Sam and Stonecrop made their way upstairs, but, of course, not to the veterinarian's office.

To their greatest luck, the problem of entering the supposedly locked apartment was rendered moot, when they found the door unlocked, old man Gordon apparently having forgotten to lock up when he'd been in there to clean. Inside, rather than finding a dark, abandoned apartment, they saw someone had gone to extreme lengths to keep the Johnson home well maintained. It was like stepping back in time; with the exception of some of the furniture and light fixtures, which were wrapped in plastic sheets, to protect them from dust, everything was exactly the way Dr Johnson had left them four years ago.

For the next couple of hours, Sam and Stonecrop searched Johnson's home like Holmes and Watson, looking for any clues related to Johnson's written account of his escapades in 2012. There was nothing; although they found all of the man's private research papers on the bookcase in the study, the framed family photographs on the wall in the lounge, and even a metal lock-box containing all of his crucial documents sitting on a chair in the master bedroom, there wasn't the faintest shred of evidence to prove his story was real. Maybe someone had deliberately removed any evidence left behind, to cover the truth?

To add to the mystery, they soon realised the apartment showed sighs of a hasty departure; suitcases and clothes were missing, in a manner suggesting the owner had simply gone away on a long-term business trip, rather than being dead. But _where_?

"It doesn't figure," said Stonecrop, staring at the contents of the lock-box, which they had emptied atop the coffee table in the lounge, to examine, "He's left his passport, credit cards, driver's licence, and even his wallet behind! Where the bloody hell would you travel without your wallet…?"

But Sam didn't bother chastising Stonecrop for his foul language, her attention suddenly turned elsewhere. Above the sofa were a number of framed pictures of Johnson's family and friends, dating back to different periods throughout his life; he and his wife playing with their daughter on the beech during a vacation to the seaside; what looked like a reunion party with his friends at a pub; his university graduation ceremony; and a picture of him and his friends as adolescents at the orphanage, where he had grown up…

Looking carefully at that particular picture, Sam could recognise a teenage Alan Johnson, Derek Shaw, a dark-skinned boy, whom she figured was another of his childhood friends, and another skinny boy with straw-coloured hair like hers, who looked somewhat familiar… Glancing at the name of the orphanage in the background, she gasped, a bell ringing in her memory.

"'_St Mary's Orphanage for Lost Souls_…' But, hang on, that's the same one where _he_ was… Could it be him…?"

Grabbing her purse, she took out a plastic folder, which she always carried around with her. Inside, were two pictures; a faded old photograph of her missing brother as a toddler - the only picture she had of him - and another, computer-generated image she had had made a few years back, of what he might look like as a young adult. Comparing them against the one on the wall, she realised the face in the picture indeed matched. She had come here looking for answers to Dr Johnson's supposed discovery of intelligent rabbits, and instead she had found evidence that this man had in fact known her long-lost brother!

After all these years of futile searching, never in her wildest dreams had it crossed her mind that her search for Stonecrop's place of origin would ultimately put her on the right track to finding her brother at long last! The realisation felt utterly mind-bogging. In fact, it was so mind-bogging, that Sam didn't hear the front door open, until the newcomer was standing right behind her, clearing his throat to get her attention.

"Anything else you'd like to see?"

Sam nearly jumped out of her skin in fright. Turning, she came face-to-face with a stern-looking man, who was frowning suspiciously. Whoever he was, he obviously wasn't too happy to find her nosing around here.

"Chief Inspector Charles Santon, Scotland Yard," said the man, flashing a badge, "May I ask what you are doing, trespassing in this house? Don't you know breaking into someone else's property, even the deceased's, is a criminal offence which warrants an arrest?" Sam felt her stomach bottom out; of all the people who could have caught her nosing around, it had to be a police officer… This time, she had let her curiosity take her too far. At that moment, Stonecrop entered the room.

"Who're you talking to, Sam? Oh damn…!" he cursed, noticing Inspector Santon. Before Sam could do anything to shut him up, the damage was done; Stonecrop had revealed his speaking abilities in front of Inspector Santon. The cat was out of the bag. Things couldn't have gotten any worse. Not only was she facing arrest for break-in, but now her secret was out and would spread like wildfire. She couldn't allow them to take Stonecrop away from her!

"Please, sir," she begged the Inspector, "I'll come along quietly, but don't tell anyone about this…" To her utmost surprise, instead of expressing amazement and demanding answers, as one might expect, Santon was staring transfixed at Stonecrop, with an expression of, what looked like, _recognition_. What was going on here?

"Where did you find him?" he asked in a reasonably calm, but stern voice, "Well?"

"Please, don't ask anymore questions," pleaded Sam, "Hand me over to the Bobbies if you must, but please, don't tell anyone about Stonecrop! They'll take him away from me…!" Apparently catching on to why they were probably here in the first place, Santon spoke in a softer tone.

"Young lady," he said kindly, "I understand your reluctance, but you must realise that I have seen the likes of your friend before. He's one of those rabbits from the future, which Dr Johnson had brought back with him four years ago…"

_He knows about Johnson's story?_ thought Sam in amazement, _But how?_

"I also happen to represent the one and only man on the planet who holds the key to the secret," Santon went on, "Now, unless you'd rather I took you into custody for trespassing, I strongly suggest you start explaining why you're here." Although Sam wasn't sure if Santon was trying to trick her somehow, to get the secret of Stonecrop out of her for his own gain, she couldn't see any other way out of this, and spilled the beans.

She told Santon everything; the story of how she had found Stonecrop as a kitten and raised him in secret; the discovery of Johnson's copy of _Watership Down_, containing his written account of his adventures in the future; and her search for the truth, which had finally brought her to Johnson's old home, where it had all started… The only part she left out was the unexpected discovery that Johnson might have known her brother, which she figured, was rightfully still her private secret.

For a while, Santon stared at her intently, as if trying to determine whether or not she was telling the truth. His unbending, piercing gaze, which Sam had often observed among policemen, made her feel as if she were being x-rayed. Finally, he spoke again.

"I believe you, Ms Fields," he said, "And, I might add, you're extremely lucky that you bumped into me today. As it happens, your friend Stonecrop is part of a great secret, which Dr Johnson's executive has spent the last four years struggling to keep safe…"

"Would that be this Sir Cole Drake we've been hearing all about?" piped up Stonecrop, also beginning to piece everything together. Santon nodded. "That's right, longears, I've been his closest trustee and liaison with the law, ever since Dr Johnson left…"

"But _what exactly is_ that secret, Mr Santon?" asked Sam, her mind suddenly filled to bursting with questions, realising she was literally one step away from learning the truth once and for all, "Did Johnson really travel into the future and meet rabbits like Stonecrop? Is that where Stonecrop comes from? How come he…?"

"I'm sorry, Ms Fields," said Santon, "I'm under oath of absolute secrecy. Only Dr Drake can explain the whole truth to you in person." Sam felt disappointed, as well as worried; if this was part of some big secret, that nobody on the outside was supposed to know anything about, what would happen when this Dr Drake found out about Stonecrop? What would they do to _her_?

"Tell you what," said Santon, thinking hard, "Dr Drake is currently looking for a trustworthy courier to deliver a secret message. You say you're a courier?" Sam nodded. "Well, I can arrange an audition with him on short notice. I'm sure he'll be happy to give you the job, once he hears about Stonecrop. That is, of course, if you accept it."

Sam and Stonecrop looked at each other; although still sceptical of all this secrecy involved, wondering just what exactly they were getting themselves into, they had come too far to turn back now. Sam slowly nodded. Santon almost smiled…

Later that evening, the two of them sat down to dinner, talking about the events of the day. Santon had driven them home, promising to get in touch with Dr Drake as soon as possible, telling them to stay put until they received his reply. The scientist, he had explained, had since resigned from his post at the Royal University of London, where Dr Johnson worked, and now did private scientific research in a secluded facility in the country.

"Do you think we did the right thing, trusting Santon?" asked Stonecrop, taking a bite out of a vegetarian haggis pie. Sam, who was eating her sauerkraut sandwich in silence, didn't know what to say. She realised there was no turning back anymore, now that Santon knew about Stonecrop, but, on the other hand, she kept wandering, what exactly would this new job of hers involve? Although obviously delighted at having a job again soon, just when she was on the brink of being left starving out on the street, all this secrecy made her feel very uneasy. And it wasn't the only thing that was bothering her.

Her mind kept thinking about that picture she had found in Johnson's apartment, now tucked away in her bag, having slipped it away on her way out, right from under Santon's nose. Was that really her brother Ronald in the picture? Did Drake and Santon have the answer to that as well? For Stonecrop's sake, as well as her own, she sincerely hoped that the risk she was taking by revealing Stonecrop's existence to a complete stranger would be worth it…

**Elsewhere, in lunar orbit… **

A space shuttle had gone into orbit around the moon. But this wasn't part of a new exploration mission to the lunar surface. Instead, several astronauts were outside their ship on EVA, flying around the husk of a dead satellite, which had come out of deep space the week before, and was now locked in a decaying orbit around the moon. Although disabled and inoperative, the foreboding crest, familiar to every national security agency back on Earth, was still visible on the side of the hull: a black, skeletal hand, held in a stop gesture. Black Inferno, the late Sergei Petrograd's brainchild, after four years of drifting dead through space, had slingshot around the sun, and returned to Earth.

After the Humble had tracked it on its Earth-bound trajectory, the authorities, fearing radioactive contamination if it reached the atmosphere, one of the decommissioned space shuttles had been hastily dispatched on a top-secret mission, transporting a space salvage crew to secure the weapon-satellite. As it was too big to be transported back to Earth on the shuttle, rather than destroying it with missiles, fearing nuclear debris striking the Earth, NATO officials had instead decided to try and correct its trajectory on site, locking it in a safe orbit around the moon, where the nuclear arsenal left over from the war, which the Chinese had hauled up there for their secret missile launch stations, still lay.

A space engineer had found the satellite's maintenance port, which controlled the guidance system and EMP cannon, designed to pulverize ground targets from orbit. Unbeknownst to any of his colleagues however, the engineer was under the employment of a third party, out to get the old satellite operational again.

With the rest of the crew busy performing the other necessary repairs, the engineer discretely re-programmed the guidance system as per his secret orders. The control panel slowly rose from the dead on reserve power, as the astronaut charted the new flight plan – and the coordinates for a new strike towards the Earth. The location: a remote, uninhabited region on the southern coast of England, known as the former New Forest National Park, now a radioactive dead zone, where the unexplained aircraft disappearances of 2012 had occurred years earlier. The same site where the time warp, originally created by solar flares striking the Earth, would soon be duplicated _artificially_ by means of the restored once-weapon satellite, reopening the gateway into futurity…

**Author's note:** As you probably figured from that twist in the first book, when Alan and co almost don't make it back, Black Inferno was always meant to be the key to time travel in the sequel. Originally, I had considered having a new Aurora pop up, but then I figured it would look too coincidental. The plot behind reopening the gateway into the future will be explained over the next few chapters. Enjoy and please review!


	25. Chapter 25 Meeting the Legend

Sam and Stonecrop's wait for Dr Drake's reply took surprisingly all week, making them wonder whether the mysterious, reclusive scientist was ever going to respond at all. Personally, Sam was kind of hoping he wouldn't, still worried sick about her friend's existence coming out. In spite of Santon's reassurance that there was nothing to be afraid of, Stonecrop was still her only friend and she couldn't bear the thought of losing him. Finally, the day before their eviction notice was up, Drake's letter arrived.

Sam and Stonecrop soon realised that this Dr Drake character had big plans for them. In his letter, he was inviting them over to his private research compound in Hampshire for a meeting, where he promised to 'explain it all' in person. Also, there was a mention of Sam's new job as a courier to deliver a secret message to someone, the full details of which would be explained to her during that meeting. Enclosed with the letter were a couple of pre-booked train tickets to Newbury, plus a paid reservation at a boarding house in Newtown Common, where they would be lodging.

"This fellow definitely spares no expenses," muttered Stonecrop, wondering whether all this generosity was a good or a bad sign. Sam simply didn't know what to make of all this. Could Drake be lurking them into a false sense of security, to gain their trust, and then take them under his control? Maybe they were literally making a pact with the devil and didn't even realise? However, she did know something else: there was no future for either of them here anymore. She was jobless, practically penniless and soon-to-be homeless; and the city was no longer a safe place for Stonecrop either, who was now easily noticeable. The bottom line was simple: regardless whether they liked it or not, it was time to move on and hope for the best.

And so it was the very next day that the pair, all packed and ready, prepared to move out. Their little apartment had been swept clean and any junk or litter cleared out, courtesy of Sam, who didn't like leaving a mess behind, especially when she was walking out without paying the rent for the last six months. Anything they couldn't take with them, including her beloved courier bicycle, she had sold down at the local pawn shop, securing them enough money to travel decently.

It was midday when they exited the apartment block for the last time, heading towards the highway, to take the next bus to King's Cross Station, and catch their train to Newbury. Stonecrop turned to look at their old home sadly; although he was a rabbit living in a world where he didn't belong, this neighbourhood was still his childhood home - the only home he had ever known. The city had always been his home and now he was leaving it, probably for good, heading off into this uncertain future opened up to him and Sam, literally out of the blue.

"Cheer up, Stonecrop," said Sam, setting aside her backpack and kneeling down to hug her furry friend. For someone moving house, she was travelling light, carrying only her scanty wardrobe and her few worldly possessions, including the picture of her supposed brother, which she had taken from Johnson's apartment, along with the man's copy of _Watership Down_. "Wherever this takes us, at least we're together all the way."

Stonecrop happily nuzzled his adoptive mother, "Thank you, Sam. Thank you for always being there for me."

The bus ride to King's Cross, although uneventful, was extremely tense for the both of them. Sam would feel her heart jump in her mouth each time someone would turn to stare at Stonecrop in amazement, wondering how a rabbit could get so big, but luckily not disturbing them. It didn't get any better at the train station either, where they had to wade through an endless crowd of holidaymakers leaving town, on their way to the country. Every now and then, she'd give Stonecrop, whom she had on his lead, to keep up pretences, and who was feeling most irate about it, a stern glance, warning him not to open his mouth now or they'd both have it.

They finally managed to find some privacy on the train, the animal-friendly section being less crowded than the main passenger area of the car. Between periods when there were no other passengers within earshot, they were able to chat in low voices, enjoying some corned beef and coleslaw sandwiches (only coleslaw in Stonecrop's case) and ice-tea Sam had made them for the trip.

With Stonecrop snoozing on the seat beside her, his head resting on her lap like a house dog, Sam stared out the window, watching as they left the outskirts of London behind, heading out into the beautiful English countryside. Once again, she was back on the road, an aimless wanderer seeking her place in life – only this time, at least she was not alone. By some mysterious twist of fate, she now knew, hers and Stonecrop's mysterious backgrounds were somehow interconnected. And together, they'd find out how.

It was late afternoon when the bus from Newbury dropped them off at the town square of Newtown Common. Sam's first impression of this little country town, which was the old hometown of the late Major James McEwen and his family, was one of a peaceful, quiet place, free of the usual crowds and commotion of the city. Sam thought: _Well, at least we'll have more freedom here than we ever had back in London._

On their way to the boarding house on the edge of town, they made a brief detour at the former Sutch and Martin Flight Club, where Johnson's plane had taken off on its final flight. The town itself hadn't changed all that much in the last four years, but the club had since been torn down and the premises converted into a trailer park by the local Council for summer campers. The only thing left was the battered wreck of Johnson's Cessna, which still lay in a corner close to the gate.

While Stonecrop took some time to run around, glad to be finally free of his captivity, Sam walked over to get a better look at the remains of the small plane. Although still recognisable as an aircraft, its engine, flight instruments and seats had been cannibalised from the wreck and recycled, or otherwise taken as souvenirs by curious spectators, leaving nothing but the stripped aluminium fuselage for the scrap yard. Graffiti, bearing messages from Johnson fans decorated the decaying battered fuselage. A most peculiar memorial for a dead man – or one lost in time, thought Sam.

While researching Johnson's strange story over the past week, she had read about how the plane had been found crashed and abandoned on the bottom of a lake the night Johnson had reappeared out of the blue, following his supposed death. Nobody had ever been able to explain where it had been during those nine days the world believed its four passengers to have perished in flight. Had this plane actually journeyed into the _future_ and come back? Or was she just chasing someone's fantasy on paper?

The boarding house where they would be lodging was run by Mike McEwen, a retired Air Force Commander, whose son James, Sam remembered, had been on the Search and Rescue squadron that had gone in search of Johnson in 2012 and disappeared as well – according to Johnson's notes, Major McEwen had survived and joined up with his group of refugees in the future, but was eventually killed by that madman Robbins. When Johnson had returned with his five rabbit companions, his widow Josie had aided them on their mission to take down the Red Hand Brotherhood, and eventually joined them on their return to the future, hoping to find her husband again. It seemed the McEwens' old home had come into the ownership of the last surviving member of the family, who had converted it into a boarding house.

Old man Mike greeted them at the reception's desk in what had once been the parlour of the house, "Hallo Miss Fields, I've been expecting you. Dr Drake said you would be arriving today. He asked me to make a few extra special arrangements for you, to accommodate your gorgeous pet," he said, playfully ruffling Stonecrop between the ears, who pulled away indignantly. Although obviously the old man meant him no harm, Stonecrop still didn't like being patted by anyone other than Sam, much less being called a pet, but knew better than to break his silence in front of a stranger.

"Yes, thank you," said Sam shyly, shaking hands with Mike McEwen, wondering just how much Dr Drake was paying on their behalf, "I'm Sam Fields and this is Stonecrop." Stonecrop, still playing the docile, unknowing pet rabbit, couldn't resist and offered his paw to shake like a trained dog.

"Some smart animal you've got, Mrs Fields!" remarked McEwen, raising his eyebrows at the rabbit's peculiar intelligence, "Now I see why the mad scientist of our district was so determined to pay any extra expenses so that I may accommodate a _rabbit_ guest in my boarding house. Then again, we don't get a pretty face like yours around here every day either, so I wouldn't mind anyway." Sam blushed in embarrassment, suppressing a giggle, while Stonecrop pulled a face behind the old man's back.

Elizabeth, Mike's wife, who ran the boarding house with her husband, showed them to their room upstairs. The place was more or less plain, but spacious, compared to their cramped East End flat. The room, which had once been young Jamie McEwen's bedroom, still had the same furniture from four years ago, including the spare pull-down bed once used by Kenny Shelton during his visits. Sam had read all about how the boy had gone in search of his father after the authorities had given up, and disappeared under the same mysterious circumstances - Johnson's notes concluded that they figured he had made it into the future and that they hoped to find him there upon their return.

That evening, with Stonecrop snoozing on the lawn out in the garden, Sam joined the McEwens for dinner. Mrs McEwen had cooked up a hearty dinner and Mike had brought out a pack of ice-cold cider from the icebox, as they sat down at the dinner table on the glass veranda, which had once housed Josie McEwen's veterinary infirmary, now long dismantled. During dessert, the conversation shifted to the Johnson story, which had caused so much pain and loss for the McEwen family.

"Dr Johnson's name had become a legend in these parts," said Mike, "Ever since his disappearance, our little town has had swarms of tourists come to visit his grave in the churchyard. Boosted the local economy, I tell you… I hate to say that this story brings little joy to my wife and I, after what happened to our son and grandson."

"Poor James was a good man, and a wonderful husband and father," said Mrs McEwen, holding back a sob, "His death, and that of our dear grandson Jamie's, was such a devastating blow for his wife Josie, poor girl…"

"What happened to her?" asked Sam, although she already knew everything from Johnson's notes.

"Our daughter-in-law, grief-stricken, ran off shortly after James and Jamie disappeared," explained Mike, "Over the years, I've hired many private detectives to try and find her, but all in vain. Seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth. We built this boarding house to preserve their memories, to give us a sense of closure…" Sam was dying to tell Mike about Johnson's secret notes of the future, where the McEwens had apparently gone, but, remembering how Santon had emphasized the importance of secrecy, decided against it. _For crying out loud, they probably wouldn't believe me anyway…or would they?_

"So do you think this weird tale about Johnson is actually real?" she asked Mike, who, as she expected, shook his head.

"About him time-travelling into the future?" he scoffed, "Utter nonsense, girl. Such rubbish belongs in those sci-fi B-movies that immature teenagers crave for these days. My generation certainly had more sense that to believe such a ridiculous story…"

"It was such a mystery though," Elizabeth put in, "All these years, they've been whispered rumours that Dr Johnson didn't die that night Red Hand's safe house was destroyed. They say he escaped and returned to that future world he had discovered, never to be seen again. They say Dr Drake is the only one who knows the truth and had been hiding it from the public all these years…"

"I've got my interview with Dr Drake tomorrow morning," said Sam, changing the subject, before the old woman could get upset over her son and grandson again, "I'm supposed to meet him at his research centre…"

"I don't expect you'll have much trouble finding it," said Mike, "His research centre is no other than the old Buxton Hall, which was once the safe house of that bloody terrorist faction that operated in our district years ago. I've been hearing some weird stories about that place down at the local pub, by labourers hired by the good Doctor; things about strange experimentations with animal genetics and such… Oh well, at least the pay is good, or so I've been told…"

Sam frowned at the mention of 'animal experimentations' going on at Drake's lab. Maybe the scientist was luring them into a trap, so that he could use Stonecrop as a test subject to further his work? But, despite her worrying thoughts, she also knew there wasn't exactly any chance of turning back anymore either. They were both in for the ride, so they might as well see it through, whatever that turned out to be…

And so it was the following morning that the pair of them found themselves making their way to Drake's compound on the outskirts of Overton. Sam cycled along on Jamie McEwen's old bicycle which Mike had lent her, while Stonecrop followed on foot close behind, enjoying his new freedom. Out here in the open country, where there was minimum traffic, he was free to move around outside, with no fear of being discovered. But would it stay that way much longer?

It didn't take them long to find Buxton Hall, the former estate of the late Joseph Buxton, aka Sergei Petrograd, whose family home had served as his faction's headquarters here in England, during Red Hand's reign of terror in the early post-World War III period. Although all the mine fields, armouries, and the missile silo once kept on the property had long since been removed, the place still looked extremely foreboding to Sam. Still surrounded by the now disused electrified fence, lined with its rusting barbed wire, the Hall itself was now fitted with barred, bullet-proof windows and armoured doors, resembling a regular fortress, a safe place where someone could do anything he pleased without fear of discovery. The only question was what was going on behind those walls of concealment?

A security guard sat in a wooden cubicle by the gate. Sam handed him Drake's letter and her driver's licence, as a proof of identity, as instructed by the scientist. The guard took his time to inspect the letter, as well as compare Sam's face with her licence photo, as if trying to sniff out a ruse, before passing her a visitor's card and letting them in. Waiting on the weatherworn porch, which still had Red Hand's sinister crest engraved in the stone fringe, all cracked and chipped, was Santon, who greeted them much more warmly than he had done on their first meeting back in London.

"I'm glad to see you decided to accept Dr Drake's invitation, Ms Fields," he said, showing them into the domed hallway inside, which had been converted into a vending-machine cafeteria for Drake's staff, "In spite of your uncertainty, you still made the right choice. That leaves me more reassured that you're the right person for the job."

"What kind of job, Mr Santon?" asked Sam, getting suspicious, "Dr Drake says in his letter he needs me to deliver an urgent message to someone, but he wouldn't say to whom or where. And what about Stonecrop…?"

"All that, Mrs Fields, will be explained to you shortly by the good Doctor himself," replied Santon patiently, who, Sam noticed, was carrying a bundle of sealed folios, each bearing the Yard's crest and marked SECRET. What could they be? Stolen government secrets?

"I ought to remind you that you're henceforth under oath of absolute secrecy," Santon went on, "Anything you see or hear within this compound is strictly classified and thus doesn't, under any circumstances, go beyond that door. Is that understood?" Sam and Stonecrop meekly nodded, the former beginning to feel a bit like how Edward Snowden must have felt throughout his career in the American Secret Service, being entrusted with dirty, secret information, which he would later make public, at the expense of his own life. She sincerely hoped that, by coming here, she and Stonecrop weren't heading in the same direction.

Santon led them into the mansion-turned-research facility. Although the building had been incinerated the night Black Inferno was launched, along with its former terrorist occupants, it had since been renovated and restored, the interior converted into a research centre with labs and workshops, where Drake and his staff conducted their private research. A small part of the mansion was still reserved for home use, serving as living quarters for Drake and his family, whose entire lives it seemed centred solely on their work.

Santon paused at a security door, operated by a card-touchpad lock with the words 'CENTRAL LAB – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY' written in red letters on the steel frame. He run an access card he carried across the pad and the door electrically slid open. He ushered them inside.

They stepped into a state-of-the-art laboratory. No doubt this was the heart and soul of the facility, where only Drake and his key personnel entered. Judging by all the extraordinary equipment that filled this majestic room of science, most of which Sam couldn't make heads or tails of, it was clear that the scientist had big money to spare for his research – unbeknownst to her, funded from his terrorist father Sergei's inheritance.

Fitted with airtight, biohazard insulation on every door and a massive air-filtration system for purging toxic gasses, this part of the house had high security, including bullet-proof windows with mirrored blinds and padded, sound-proofed walls, keeping Drake's work safe from any prying ears, as well as eyes, on the outside. The presence of Santon here also meant that Drake must have powerful connections to keep the secrets of his work from ever getting out – secrets that she was about to learn.

Santon led her into a massive office, adjacent to the lab. Surveying the room, from the familiar marble fireplace Sam figured this was the very same room Johnson had described in his notes, the one where Red Hand's inner circle once held their conferences, the place where they had met their demise that fateful night. Seated at a massive glass desk, working with an electron microscope and a computer running a genetics simulation of some kind was the legendary Dr Cole Drake himself.

"Doctor, your visitors have arrived!"

Sam's first impression of the mysterious scientist, the supposed keeper to the most incredible secret the world had ever seen, was mixed. At first glance, Drake looked nothing more or less than the typical eccentric, work-obsessed scientist. Middle-aged, unusually tall and blond for a Brit because of his Russian ancestry, his expression resembled that of a person who had more contact with his private little world of science than reality, or so Sam thought. Hearing Santon's voice, the man looked up from his work and saw Sam and Stonecrop. He stood up to greet them.

"Hallo, you must be Sam Fields," he said pleasantly, removing his safety gloves to shake hands, "I'm Dr Cole Drake, head of the lagomorphia research program and President of the League of the New World. Please make yourselves at home. We have a lot to talk about." Sam and Stonecrop complied, looking at each other. What could this 'lagomorphia research program' or this 'League of the New World' be?

"I've been told you have been following the clues in some secret journal my old colleague left behind, looking for answers concerning your friend Stonecrop here," Drake continued, causing Sam to recoil slightly but then relaxed, seeing that Drake was smiling, apparently not angry with them for prying into his secret work, "I must say, I'm most impressed by your efforts to crack the mystery of Alan Johnson, the first man to meet the _lagomorphia sapiens_ that will someday inherit the Earth."

"_Lagomorphia sapiens_?" asked Stonecrop, raising an eyebrow, "What's that?"

"Humanoid rabbits," replied Drake, translating from Latin, "_Your_ kind, dear boy!"

Stonecrop was stunned, "Are you saying that there _really_ are others like me? Is Johnson's story actually true?" His lifelong wish of meeting his own kind seemed about to come true, now more than ever. Drake nodded with a smile. Sam, who couldn't withhold her own curiosity any longer, turned to the scientist.

"Dr Drake, please, what's going on here? All these strange things we've been hearing; Johnson travelling into the future, finding a world of intelligent rabbits and coming back… Are you saying Stonecrop is one of those rabbits Johnson brought back with him from the future? But how is that even possible…?" Drake patiently raised his hand to quieten his visitors down.

"Ms Fields, I understand you've withheld your impatience for answers long enough. If I can have your and Stonecrop's full attention, and no interruptions, I will explain it all," he said, "Now, you already know the untold story of Alan Johnson through his notes; so I am going to fill you in on _my_ part in this whole deal…"

Santon cleared his throat, interrupting the scientist, "Doctor, are you sure you don't want to reconsider before you proceed? You've read the girl's file I dug up for you, about her…" But Dr Drake held up his hand to stop him before he could say anything more. By now, Sam was beginning to feel real uneasy; this copper digging up something he didn't like about her, whatever that was, didn't sound like a good sign at all. Dr Drake, on the other hand, didn't seem the least concerned about it.

"Charles, I consider myself a fair judge of people – something to be expected I guess when you've been living under the haunting cloud of a scumbag like my late father. And frankly, I believe these two deserve to know the truth, more than anybody else." He turned back to Sam and Stonecrop, crossing his hands.

"We are part of a secret organisation called the League of the New World – an organisation, whose purpose is to protect the secrets of Dr Johnson's discovery and of the future. It includes myself, Charles, my wife and son, and a dozen graduate students of mine, all of whom I personally handpicked for their brilliance and trustworthiness, to run this lab. This is no private enterprise and there is no profit in it - only colossal expenses and effort all the way. Nonetheless, based on the information Alan entrusted to me before he left, we know that our work will someday influence the course of mankind, ultimately putting man and animal on an entirely new path of coexistence…"

As Drake spoke, Sam's mind kept flashing back to everything she had been reading in Johnson's notes; Drake's words matched the man's story completely. Impossible as it might be, it was all beginning to make perfect sense; Stonecrop's inexplicable origin, Dr Johnson's curious disappearance, everything.

"Your friend, Stonecrop, as you've probably guessed, was born in this very lab," Drake continued, "He isn't one of Dr Johnson's original group; he's a hybrid, genetically engineered out of some DNA samples extracted from Johnson's rabbits, which accidentally ended up in my possession…"

_**February 11**__**th**__** 2013, Buxton Hall**_

_It had been a month since the destruction of the Red Hand Brotherhood and Alan Johnson's second disappearance into oblivion. Their old safe house, now abandoned and in ruins, was placed under military jurisdiction, with specialist clean-up crews clearing out what was left of the terrorists' deadly arsenal, while police investigators collected any useful evidence to help them track down the rest of the faction's collaborators, which were being systematically rounded up and taken into custody._

_Inspector Santon, the primary investigator on the case, watched as Bomb Squad personnel hauled more and more of the dirty junk out of the ruins: unexploded landmines, weapons, nuclear missile components, enough for a madman like Sergei Petrograd to start his own dirty little war, had been found stockpiled all around the property. Even after the incineration caused by the launch of Black Inferno, the place remained extremely dangerous, prompting the authorities to declare it off-limits, until they had stripped it clean. But that wasn't the reason why Santon was here to supervise._

_He glanced at a collection of semi-burnt documents, computer drives, and other data media, which had escaped destruction by being sealed in safes and other fire-proof containers around the house, strewn out on a table, waiting to be shipped away to the crime lab for further analysis. His superiors would have one hell of a time making heads or tails out of all these breadcrumbs, to track down their prime suspect: Sven Shertok, Red Hand's key collaborator, who had been unmasked by Johnson, but managed to flee before he could be brought to justice, and was currently still at large somewhere out there. _

_Suddenly, something among the junk interesting caught the Inspector's eye: a sealed briefcase which had been found in a safe down in the mansion's torture chamber, where Red Hand's kidnapped victims were interrogated and killed. At first glance, there seemed nothing special about it; but Santon's gut instinct told him there was something more to it._

_Gesturing at the armed Marshal guarding the artefacts for permission, he got to work, picking the lock on the case. In a few minutes, the latch clicked open. There weren't any documents inside. Instead, Santon found a small icebox containing several sealed vials of blood. Although its coolant supply had since evaporated while in storage, it hadn't been in the safe too long, so the samples hadn't completely spoiled for lack of refrigeration yet. There were no labels of any kind on the vials, puzzling Santon. This was a most unusual find in a place like this. What would terrorists want with unmarked blood samples? Could it be…?_

_Using his influence, Santon was able to take charge of the briefcase without creating much of a fuss. Its strange contents he put into the hands of Dr Drake, who, after a brief analysis, confirmed the blood samples indeed belonged to the humanoid rabbits from the future, which Shertok had extracted from the lagomorphs the night he had held them prisoner at the safe house, hoping to make a profit to further his terrorist activities. Red Hand had left behind their own little souvenir from the future for them to find._

_With Santon recruited as his closest trustee, his liaison with the eyes and ears of the law so to speak, and with the building blocks of the future world at hand, as well as his father's money to finance the project, Drake began work in earnest, dedicating his life to fulfil his ultimate dream. The League of the New World was set up, consisting of carefully selected recruits, to be trained as scientists in Drake's revolutionary undertaking. Buxton Hall was restored, to serve as their lab, where the lagomorphia research program would be carried out in absolute secret in the years leading up to the Apocalypse they knew was coming._

_Within a few months, Drake and his staff had successfully extracted and synthesized a full DNA strand of lagomorphia sapien into a living embryo, which was in turn inserted into the womb of a European cottontail doe - the 21__st__ century ancestor of the humanoid rabbits, aside from humans – for in-vitro contraception. Although the surrogate mother died giving birth to an oversized kitten, the hybrid was born normal and healthy, displaying all the characteristics of Johnson's rabbit friends. On that day, Stonecrop – who was initially going to be named El-ahrairah –, the first of a yet-to-be species of rabbit was born in the 21__st__ century. Having successfully duplicated the futuristic species, Drake figured he would be fulfilling his destiny much sooner than in the original timeline. Unfortunately, fate couldn't be cheated that easily. _

_Unbeknownst to Drake, his League weren't the only people who knew about the future, and were determined to seize the prize for themselves. Shortly after the birth of Stonecrop, the laboratory was infiltrated and robbed by a band of mercenaries hired by some outside party, out to steal the research. Everything, including the infant Stonecrop and all of Drake's material, were stolen. Although the thieves were killed in the ensuing car chase before they could deliver the stolen material to their unknown employer, with all of the research presumably lost, both sides were back at square one. _

_With no more original genetic samples or data to work with, Drake had resorted to starting over, attempting to recreate the genetic strand artificially from scratch. Over the next few years, he laboured with fierce determination, but making minimum progress. Nature's power of evolution was a bitch to master by science and artificial means. It seemed unlikely that he would ever be fulfilling his dream anymore - until Santon had brought him the news of Sam and Stonecrop. The original prototype of his project wasn't lost after all…_

"…And this is how it's been for the past four years. My staff and I have been working restlessly, running thousands and thousands of gene splicing simulations, trying to recreate the original genome of _lagomorphia sapien_. We've recently managed to make some progress with the introduction of some new genetic simulators that my son, our computer engineer, has been developing for the military. My wife, our linguist and sociologist on the team, has also been expending the Lapine language, giving it a full grammatical structure and a richer vocabulary… But otherwise, we weren't getting anywhere – until you came along."

"The attempted theft of the research was the work of Sven Shertok, we think," explained Santon, "Ever since he has been on the run from the law, he's been a thorn in our side, out to get us… And it gets worse." He opened one of the files he had brought along and passed it to Sam. She and Stonecrop looked at the picture of an unfamiliar stern-faced, dark-haired man with a square jaw in a military uniform.

Stonecrop scoffed, "Who is this?"

"Ex-Colonel Harry Crowley," explained Santon, "Another high-profile criminal. We have been tracking him for several years now without much success. He's a former member of British Intelligence, who's decided it's more profitable switching to the other side. He was a key collaborator with the Chinese during the Shardik scandal of 2010, but fled into hiding before he could be apprehended. Since then, he has been making an astounding career of professional crime: Industrial espionage, theft and disposal of millions in gold from treasury shipments, hijacking of weapons for terrorist groups, accessory to political and military assassinations, you name it. His record rivals that of Osama Bin Laden himself."

"I don't understand," said Sam, feeling confused. She had read all about this Sven Shertok character and everything he had done to Johnson's group, but this other man, Harry Crowley, was a total mystery to her, "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Crowley now works as a hired gun, employed by terrorists, paramilitaries and professional gangs, for big, dirty assignments. He's got powerful international connections to stir up things real bad for us," explained Santon, going through the reports in the file, "Recently, the Bureau has been getting some hazy reports from foreign Intelligence that Crowley is now under the employment of Shertok. Then, last week, NATO officials discretely informed us that Black Inferno has been revived and now sits armed in lunar orbit. We believe this is all part of some joint collaboration between Shertok and Crowley, to reopen the gateway into the future."

"If the future is penetrated, the consequences could be catastrophic," said Dr Drake, "A world deprived of law and armed forces is a too great a temptation for a militarist like Shertok. He would have all the territory he wants to establish his envisioned militia empire, which his former boss failed to establish four years ago. The entire future world would be overrun by mercenaries, who'd invade and conquer the entire planet, with nobody and nothing to stand in their way. They'd be no resistance, no stopping them."

"Then why don't you bloody well stop them?" retorted Stonecrop, "Can't you use your own connections to have them arrested or assassinated…?"

"We could try, but not without risking exposing the secret of the future," explained Santon patiently. This rabbit had apparently been watching too many Steven Seagal movies, "If word leaks out, there are a great many more greedy opportunists out there who'd stop at nothing to take advantage of our work. Simply put, we'd be no better off, if not worse. No, preserving utmost secrecy is just as crucial as dealing with this menace."

"Our only hope lies with the protector of the new world himself: my old colleague, Alan Johnson," said Dr Drake, getting to the bottom line, "If he is to be forewarned of this coming threat in good time, a messenger will have to be sent up ahead when the gateway opens, to warn him. That, Miss Fields, is where you come in."

"Excuse me?"

"Your new job assignment, Ms Fields is to deliver my message of warning to Alan Johnson…in the future!" Sam looked like she'd swallowed a lemon.

True to Drake and Santon's wisdom, a similar meeting was already taking place elsewhere. In a dingy basement pub in the coastal university town of Aberdeen up in Scotland, two men sat facing each other at their table, deep in conversation. Their booth was situated in a secluded, shadowy corner of the pub, away from any unseen, prying eyes of Bureau Marshals or the police. The meeting spot was down by the docks and warehouses of the port, where only sailors or dock workers went, well away from the crowded, respectful neighbourhood of the town's university. With a couple of thugs seated at nearby tables, keeping watch for unwelcome company, like bodyguards, and with the bartender bribed to keep the closed sign on the door, the briefing commenced in privacy.

One of the men had placed an old-fashioned tape recorder on the table, as they listened to the recording via earphones. His face was but a dark silhouette, obscured by the shadows; only his hands were visible, resting in a folded manner on the table: the left had a ring on the index finger with a familiar engraving of a red hand held in a stop gesture; the right one was a lifeless prosthetic, made of false plastic skin, attacked to the stump at wrist level.

There was nobody else within earshot to hear the voice on the tape, but if there had been, he might have recognised the voice of the late Russell Robbins talking about his legendary escapades in the future. This tape, which had, by a complete stroke of luck, also made its way back to the 21st century like the DNA samples, and since thought lost, had ultimately ended up in the hands of a new owner – one bent on making the most out of this little legacy left behind by his long-missing comrade from the old days.

His associate, a man whose face and name were high on the wanted person list in several countries, listened carefully to Robbins' words, noting down names, places, and other key information, in preparation for his new mission. Harry Crowley, ex-Colonel in the British MI5, and now a high-profile mercenary and wanted criminal, was meeting with his new employer, for the briefing on his latest big job.

As they heard Robbins' voice cut off at the end of the recording, Crowley set his earphones aside and looked back at his one-handed employer, whom he dared not name openly in public, "So that's the last known entry?"

"The last one, as far as we can tell," explained the one-handed man, "The fate of Robbins beyond that point remains unknown. Your mission is to make contact with him upon your arrival – he's to be your key informant on the inside, so to speak."

"What if he's dead by now?" asked Crowley, "From the sound of it, the chances of anyone survival in such a hostile place for so long are drastically slim…"

"If that fails, then you're to make contact with your second-best informer: Robbins's associate mentioned on the tape, General Woundwort," explained the one handed-man patiently, "If Robbins is still working for him, I imagine he might also be a useful ally to you. I leave it up to you to decide whether a beneficial alliance can be arranged between you, or if he must be taken out of the picture altogether."

"What about Johnson's party? What do I do about them, should I encounter them?" His employer didn't reply; instead, he fixed him with a silent, unbending gaze, implying the answer was obvious, "I see."

He handed Crowley a stack of personal files from the Bureau civilian database, similar to Santon's, each containing all known information on the people he was likely to encounter on his mission: Alan and Lucy Johnson, Derek Shaw, James and Josie McEwen, everybody who was likely to stand in Crowley's way. He also passed him Robbins' tape, which contained all the inside information on the future.

"Anything else you need?"

Despite the apparent craziness of his mission of journeying into the future where a bunch of presumed-dead individuals had supposedly living with humanoid rabbits, Crowley wasn't a man who questioned his employer's instructions; he only dealt with facts. He considered for a moment, "I'll need a party of a minimum of one hundred trained, reliable men, plus all the necessary equipment."

"Already taken care of," replied the one-handed man, passing another file to Crowley. This was a copy of a recently intercepted MoD order, concerning the opening of the Red Glasshouse - the country's new high security, off-shore military prison, built on the Isle of Wight.

After the notorious Shardik scandal in 2010, followed by the Red Hand scandal of 2013, the British Armed Forces had undergone a thorough security overhaul by the EU, coming up with dozens and dozens of secret enemy collaborators and spies, mostly militarist sympathizers-turned traitors in favour of the global militia dictatorship the Chinese had intended. Crowley, of all people, knew all about them, having being a key figure in the Shardik scandal himself, before things had inexplicably gone south, putting an end to his former career.

All those accused of collaborating with the enemy were charged with high treason and sentenced to prison, many for life. But with crime generally soaring around the country in recent years, all British prisons, military and civilian alike, had become overcrowded, violent hellholes of riots and violence, close to collapse and utterly unstable. Finally, the House of Lords had yielded to the demands of the Police Commissioners and had pushed for enough capital to finance the construction of the Red Glasshouse – the new home for the most violent, most racist and most dangerous of these traitorous scumbags now rotting behind bars.

Among those to be transferred to the new prison were many of Crowley's former associates from the Shardik conspiracy, as well as most of the surviving collaborators of the Red Hand Brotherhood, now serving their sentences for accessory to terrorism, high treason and war crimes, among other high-profile military convicts. In other words, the perfect recruits for the perfect mission, whose purpose literally focused on their dark cause for which they had lost their freedom, and to which, Crowley knew, still remained true of heart. An entire army of thugs literally waiting to be recalled to duty.

"The transport is in nine days, by air, departing from Lossiemouth Base. All preselected convicts are being assembled there as we speak. Once you hear the signal, you'll have a 90-minute window to divert and get to the future – the same window will be open exactly 12 months later for your return. I've made special arrangements so that your equipment also makes its way onto that flight. I trust you'll have little trouble securing your own passage?" Crowley smiled; the sloppy security of the British Armed Forces was literally child's play for the likes of him. All he needed was a mole, either willing or persuaded, on the inside to get him onboard that plane at the right time, plus some little delicate handiwork to cover his tracks. Money and intimidation were always one step ahead of the law in these troubled times.

The briefing concluded, the two partners stood and shook hands, "Are you sure you won't be coming too?" His one-handed employer shook his head, "Only once you've finished…eliminating all opposition, so the new National Socialist Global Dominion can start – the grand rebirth of civilisation!" He shook Crowley's hand, "Good luck, my friend!"

Flanked by his bodyguards, Crowley turned to leave, ready for to get started on his new mission. The one-handed man sat back down to finish his drink. He raised his tankard of ale to propose a toast to no-one in particular, "To the glorious new future – and to the sweet fruits of revenge!" He glanced down at his prosthetic limb, the memory of how he had lost the real thing to Alan Johnson, along with everything else… But now, after bleeding from the throat for four years, he was ready to strike back and reclaim what should have rightfully been his from the start. If all went well, within another year, the bitter fruits of failure he had been forced to endure for so long wouldn't even be a memory.

**Author's note:** My apologies for the delay in updating, but my schedule has been erratic. In the original draft, I also had Jamie in this chapter, who had made it back from the future with Kenny and the others and was now living with his grandfather. If I had gone ahead with that draft, Stonecrop would have met a colony of his own kind living on Drake's estate (Hickory and the others), and the story would have gone in an entirely different direction from here on. To understand the Shardik scandal better, I suggest you go back and re-read the first chapter. ENJOY AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	26. Chapter 26 Futureward Ho!

Sam didn't get a wink of sleep the night following her first meeting with Dr Drake. She and Stonecrop had spent most of the day up at Buxton Hall, as the scientist filled them in on the details regarding their little errand in the future. Although Sam and Stonecrop had both agreed whole-heatedly, if not with a tad bit of scepticism, the job, they soon realised, was far easier said than done.

The only way into the future was by air. One of Santon's double-agents had informed them that the gateway was due to open next week, and with the Crowley already on the move, they would have to make preparations fast, if they were to beat the bad guys to their goal. Drake had purchased a two-person motor glider, which Sam would have to learn to fly with only a week's worth of hard training.

The informant had also warned them that the gateway would close up immediately after Crowley went through, the enemy being intent on keeping the secret well under wraps as much as Drake was; Black Inferno would then slingshot around the sun, returning in exactly one year to reopen it once again, for the expedition to come back. This meant that Sam would be spending a whole year in the future and would have to be trained accordingly.

Drake and Santon wasted no time, looking around for flight instructors. Unfortunately, applying for a PL wasn't something that could be done so easily indiscreetly, and on such short notice. Even if Sam could qualify for solo that fast, there was no way her disappearance could go unnoticed by the authorities, which might risk exposing the secret of the future. Finally, on Sam's suggestion, they had come up with Mike McEwen, a veteran pilot and keen glider flyer, just like his son and grandson had been, to train her.

The very next day, Sam had entered her first-time flying course, under Mike's instruction. Since Sutch and Martin's flight club had closed down, the Newbury Council had set up another flight club at Greenham Air Force Base, where Major McEwen's rescue squadron once operated years ago. Using Mike's chartered glider, her lessons began in earnest.

Learning to fly for the first time wasn't a particularly pleasant experience for Sam, who had a bad case of acrophobia, and had never even been on an aircraft before in her life. Mike, on the other hand, who was a life-long natural flyer, could handle the glider like a bird could handle its wings.

Under his professional instruction, Sam slowly got the hang of operating the controls, handling the pitch, trim and roll. She found flying the glider was actually pretty straightforward, if not requiring a fair bit of practice to fly straight and level. Likewise, learning to read the six basic flight instruments – artificial horizon, altimeter, airspeed indicator, chronometer and compass – in sync, to be able to navigate without the luxury of a GPS or radio, was also only a matter of doing some simple math, but, again, required plenty of practice. In spite of her progress, with such limited time, Sam couldn't help but feel like a rookie of rookies in the wrong place.

Whenever she wasn't training with Mike, she and Stonecrop would attend a series of lectures Drake had arranged for them up at the lab. Aside from having them learn to fly, just to make the journey out, the scientist was also making sure that they both took a crash course in the Lapine language and other aspects of the lagomorphs' culture, which he figured they would need, especially Stonecrop. Their teacher was none other than Drake's wife, Simmone, a brilliant professor of linguistics, who had spent the last four years building on the fictional language Mr Adams had invented for his book, slowly reshaping it into a fuller language, which the firstborn lagomorphs would someday adopt as their own.

Stonecrop thought of this as a bit of a joke, having to learn a fictional language which wasn't even complete yet, well in its infancy. However, Simmone had pointed out that there was always the possibility that Alan and his companions might be dead, or else had abandoned English over Lapine, in which case, without knowing the proper native language to communicate, they'd have serious problems fitting in.

Santon, the League's security expert, had taken it upon himself to brief the pair on each and every person whom they knew had ended up in the future, including all the members of Johnson and McEwen's groups, Jamie McEwen and Kenny Shelton, as well as the passengers and crew of Flight 571, with strong emphasis on anyone whom they should watch out for. Likewise, he filled them in on the names and descriptions of the rabbits they might meet, more specifically the ones Dr Johnson had brought back with him. Also, he had instructed them both to exercise heavily every day until departure, to achieve the appropriate physical condition they would need in the wilderness of the future world.

All in all, it was a busy week for Sam and Stonecrop, with lots to learn, and very little time to get it done. At night, they'd return late to the boarding house to sleep, too exhausted to even think of the excitement of what lay ahead of them over the next few days.

A week later, things seemed to finally be on a sound footing more or less: Sam had completed her first solo flight and, although she was still pretty amateurish with take-off and landing, the latter in particular, at least now she could fly. She and Stonecrop had also learned by heart a dozen or so Lapine words and phrases, and how to use them, but still had a long way to go before they could qualify for fluent speakers. But, at least they had made a promising start.

On the evening before their day of departure, Sam joined the McEwens to dinner in the garden as usual, while Stonecrop had his on a large plate Elizabeth had put out on the lawn for him. However, her appetite was unusually absent as it slowly dwelled on her that this was her last night in this world, making her feel almost like a person about to commit suicide. In just under 24 hours from now, sometime tomorrow afternoon, she and Stonecrop would be setting off on their journey.

Sam often thought herself as adventurous, but this was one adventure she couldn't possibly look forward to without some serious qualms. Drake had warned them that once they'd crossed the warp they'd be completely on their own to find Watership Down, where Hazel's warren was. The memory of Johnson's story, including the mention that his group, as well as Major McEwen's, had suffered great losses only by going through that time warp, in addition to the many fatalities they had sustained throughout their journey, kept flashing back in her mind, making her feel very uneasy.

"I heard you're leaving tomorrow, dear," said Elizabeth. The McEwens of course knew nothing of all this; Sam had told Mike that she had ultimately decided to turn down the job Drake had offered her and was going to try her luck elsewhere, while, in fact, tomorrow she and Stonecrop were scheduled to have their medical evaluation at Buxton Hall, before their departure. "You must come and visit us again someday."

"I sure will, thank you, Mrs McEwen," said Sam, wondering whether that would ever come to pass. After all, by this time tomorrow, like the Time Traveller with his Time Machine, she'd be on her way to a new future world, from which she wouldn't be returning for a whole year – if she were still alive by then that was. In the midst of her uneasiness, she didn't notice Mike watching her carefully, as if making some kind of connection.

As Elizabeth took the dishes inside, giving them a moment of privacy, the old man took her aside for a little chat. Passing her a glass of ice-tea, he looked at her carefully, "Sam, I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest with me, please. You aren't really pulling out, are you? Dr Drake is sending you to wherever James and Jamie had gone, is he not?"

Caught by surprise, Sam didn't know what to say as she stammered, "I don't know what you mean, Mike…"

"Come on, girl, don't you play dumb with me," said Mike firmly, "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out: all those secret meetings with him up at his lab, you wanting to learn how to fly on a moment's notice, and now you suddenly pulling out for no apparent reason… It's fairly obvious, isn't it?"

Finally, Sam nodded, "Please, Mike, I can't tell you about it. I've sworn to absolute secrecy…" To her utmost relief, the old man smiled.

"That's all right, Sam, I won't ask you to break your promise to the good doctor. I only want to ask you a favour." Making sure his wife was out of earshot, he turned back to Sam.

"I don't know exactly where it is you're going; whether it's the future, or some other Wonderland isn't important to me. But, if you do see my son or grandson or Josie, I want you to give them our regards, and tell them that we'll never give up on them, should they ever decide to come back." Sam weekly nodded, glad that old man Mike wasn't going to try and push her any further into revealing where she was going. He was simply asking her to help him and his wife find a sense of closure to the loss of their family, and she would make sure to honour his request.

Stonecrop sat out on the lawn, looking at the stars, lost in his own thoughts. Ever since meeting Dr Drake, he had finally come to realise the mystery surrounding his mysterious background: he never did have any parents at all. All his life, he had figured that, like many orphans, he once had parents who had either died or abandoned him before he could even remember them. But, the fact was, he never did have a mother or a father to begin with. He was born through _scientific means_, out of some random blood donor rabbits out of the future. He had no family tree, no ancestors, no identity, nothing. And that hurt, it hurt a lot.

It spite of this miserable realization, however, it soothed his heart to know there were in fact others like him out there. Dr Drake had confirmed Alan Johnson's written account, that the future Earth was indeed inhabited by intelligent, humanoid rabbits just like him. He had no hope of seeking out his true parents there, as they had never even existed; but at least, he would soon be meeting his own _kind_ for the first time, the world from which he had originated, so to speak. The thought felt utterly exciting, but, on the other hand, it also felt somewhat unsettling.

Would he be able to even fit in that strange world? After all, he was a city rabbit at heart, born and raised in the world of humans. Hell, at times he would even forget that he was a rabbit, until he looked himself in the mirror and remember that he was not born of this world. But from what he had been hearing from the Drakes, this future world was nothing like the 21st century. While the adventure greatly appealed to him, now that the time had almost come, he wasn't quite sure if his future lay out there at all.

"Bloody hell, what am I worrying myself for?" he muttered to himself with a smirk, "Once they realise where I'm from, I'll probably have more fans begging for autographs than a damn Manchester United football champion!" Unfortunately, his self-reassuring sarcasm didn't help much to ease up his sense of uncertainty as to whether he was heading off to a place that he could actually call his homeland, or whether he was merely leaving it behind…

And so it was the very next morning that Sam and Stonecrop bed the McEwens goodbye and, all packed and ready, hit the road once again. Their trek to Buxton Hall felt surprisingly pleasant and refreshing, their excitement building. Today was their big day.

Drake and Santon were expecting them as usual up at the lab. The facility had its own state-of-the-art infirmary, complete with trained medical staff, which were ready to receive Sam for her medical tests, to determine whether they were healthy enough to endure the physical and mental challenges of their mission. The physician took Sam's chest film, cardiogram, and blood sample for analysis, and gave her all the necessary immunisations to keep her from contracting any diseases before her immune system could adapt to the future environment, before sending her on to her next appointment with the campus psychologist.

Meanwhile, Drake and his veterinarian worked on Stonecrop. After Stonecrop was also immunised against Myxomatosis, RHD, and other common rabbit diseases with a series of specially synthesized vaccines Drake had developed specifically for lagomorphs, the two soon-to-be time travellers were ready. As they waited for the final results of their evaluation to come through, they joined Drake in his office for the final briefing.

The scientist had set up a projector and whiteboard, showing a satellite view of the New Forest region. On a nearby table lay an assortment of items, which was their equipment. Drake zoomed in on a marked spot in the heart of New Forest.

"Our informant tells us this is where Black Inferno is expected to beam its electromagnetic pulses – the same location where the original warp had been in 2012. The pulse will then react with the electromagnetic debris left by the falling bombs from the war to create another warp…"

Drake had already explained during their first meeting that, according to several physicists whom he had consulted over the years, it was theorized that it was the electromagnetic pulse of the firing weapon-satellite reacting with the unobtainium - electromagnetic matter of a new rare atomic element - mined by the Chinese on the moon to use in their warheads, which created enough energy to distort the space-time continuum, creating a wormhole, and thus allowing time travel. Originally accomplished by a naturally-occurring solar storm hitting the Earth and causing the unobtainium fusion, it would now be accomplished by Black Inferno's solar-pulse ion cannons.

"…All you have to do is reach these coordinates on a _westerly_ heading and then the 'ripple' in time should catapult you forward to the 28th century. You'll be ending up in exactly the same location, only eight centuries forward in time. Then, all you have to do is make a one-eighty turn and double back, towards Watership Down, where Alan and his group said they were headed."

"What if there's no place to land? What if we get lost and can't make it there before we run out of power…?" asked Sam, beginning to have serious doubts as to whether she could pull all this off without experience and without even radio guidance.

"If worse comes to worse, then you just roll over and bail out," explained Santon, who had been thinking along the same lines and working on solutions for such a contingency, "If your radio fails, then you can draw attention by using your signal flares." Although Sam had covered the emergency bailout procedure with Mike in theory, there had been no time to practise it. And Stonecrop, whom Mike had only let Sam take up in the glider once during her first solo, for good luck, couldn't even handle the chute without hands. Luckily, Santon had worked out a solution to that problem too.

"Stonecrop's deploy will be tied to a 3-foot long cord," he explained, "If you have to bail out, the tug on the cord should deploy the chute for him once he's clear of the glider. It's a chance you'll just have to take."

Drake next turned to their equipment on the table: a utility knife, three signal flares, flashlight, space blanket, a couple of protein bars, canteen, and a small first aid kit - the absolute essentials to survive in the wilderness long enough to find Alan Johnson's colony. Only a basic survival kit, in addition to Sam's scanty wardrobe and personal belongings in her backpack, and their parachutes, which was as much as the limited weight allowance of the glider permitted them to take along.

Santon walked up to Stonecrop with a peculiar cigarette case-shaped gadget with a blinking red light, which he fastened to his collar.

"Tracer," he explained, "In case you get separated in the event of a bailout, you can track him on this." He handed Sam a cell phone-like devise, its screen marked with a cross divided in notches, which marked the holder's distance and direction from the tracking device in the form of a blinking red dot.

"And this," said Santon, "is your insurance policy, in case you run into any unwelcome company." He passed Sam a tiny revolver, often referred to in the trade as a ladies' gun, which Sam pocketed with trembling hands, never having been particularly fond of guns, "Should you run into any trouble on the ground, all you have to do is pull the trigger. Also, I'm going to need you to hand over all your IDs. Everything, if you please."

Sam reluctantly handed over her passport, driver's license, credit cards, and any other card or document of identification she carried, wondering why she was literally being stripped off her identity all of a sudden. Noticing her perplexity, Drake explained, "It will make it easier for us to cover up all traces of this operation by 'erasing' your identity from the records. You won't be needing a passport where you're going. Only this." He passed Sam a military-style pair of dog-tags, bearing her full name, birth date, and blood type. Her new identity - the only kind which actually worked where she was going anyway.

Soon, the results of the medical tests had also come through, confirming that both Sam and Stonecrop were of sound mind and body, and good to go for their mission.

"Now then," said Dr Drake, once the briefing was complete, "It's time to sign your contract and to discuss your fee for this job." Sam thought this rather peculiar; what would she be needing money for in a place where she couldn't even spend it?

"Sam, in return for your services, I'm offering you a place among Alan Johnson's colony, with Stonecrop. I barely know you, but I have every reason to believe you have earned that place. If you choose, you may remain there and make a new life for yourself; otherwise, if you prefer to return once the warp reopens next year and wait out the Apocalypse with us, I promise you a place here in the League." He passed her a hermetically sealed envelope, lined with plastic, to protect it from humidity during the journey. There was no postage stamp or address; only the words: _'For the eyes of Dr Alan Johnson only.' _

"I have included a letter of introduction for you, as well as my own message of warning to Alan, about Crowley," he said, "You are to put these documents into his hands, and his alone. I have every confidence that he and his friends will honour my request of admitting you. However, I ought to remind you one more time that this assignment involves numerous risks and even more hardships. Once you've crossed through the warp, my responsibility ends. You'll be completely on your own to fulfil your mission. Are you up for this?"

Pen in hand, Sam stared down at the document, which was her official contract, outlining all the terms and conditions over several pages. Her hand quivered, hesitant to sign. This was it; at this point, she could either go ahead with this crazy escapade or turn it down. Was this adventure really worn putting her neck on the line? Maybe it was better if she left it in the hands of a real professional? Then again, this could be her one and only chance of getting Stonecrop back where he truly belonged, so he could be free – a place where she might find happiness as well. Finally, banishing her fears, she signed it.

Drake stood and shook her hand, "Congratulations, Sam. And don't you worry; I am pretty sure someday you will treasure this moment as the time you made the best decision of your life. I know Alan certainly did."

"Are you going to tell her now, Doctor?" asked Santon, his tone suddenly frosty. This sudden change in attitude in the Inspector caught Sam by surprise. She stared at each of them in turn. What was going on here?

"Tell me, what?"

Drake cast Santon a glare, before slowly turning to face Sam with the truth, "Sam, there is something else I think you should know before you go. Something that might come as a bit of a shock to you..." Sam flashed back to her first meeting with Dr Drake, where Santon had cautioned the scientist to reconsider before entrusting her with the secrets of his project, on account of her being potentially untrustworthy, because of something he had dug up concerning her background.

"What is this all about?" she demanded, starting to get really annoyed at having something like this withheld from her. Why was Santon so suspicious of her? "Has it got something to do with my brother and Dr Johnson…?"

Realising there was no way out, Drake turned to Santon, "Charles, would you and Stonecrop please step outside for a moment? I'd rather explain this in privacy." The Chief Inspector nodded and walked out the door, ushering a bewildered Stonecrop out as well, closing it behind them. Drake then turned to face Sam, his usually pleasant expression now cold and stony…

Sam rejoined Santon and Stonecrop in the cafeteria half an hour later. Stonecrop frowned as he noticed his step-mother now looked horribly downcast, her eyes puffy, as if she had been crying.

"Whatever is the matter, Sam? What was all that about?"

"N…nothing, Stonecrop. I'll tell you later…" Sam stammered, trying to hide her sadness. Whatever Dr Drake had just been telling her in there, she definitely wasn't keen to discuss it any time soon. "Come on, we have to get moving."

Their equipment and belongings at hand, they followed Santon outside, where a waiting car was ready to take them to the airstrip, where their glider awaited. The race was on; the only question was which side would make it to the finish line first?

Meanwhile, up in Scotland, it was a busy day going on at Lossiemouth Royal Air Force Base. A military-owned triple-engine DC-10, converted to a prisoner transport plane, stood on the edge of the runway, awaiting its convict passengers.

With a small army of armed Marines patrolling every inch of the base, a procession of men in military attire and carrying kits, flanked by dozens of heavily armed escort guards, were marched out of the barracks and made to stand at attention on the tarmac for a roll call. Today was moving day for some of the country's most notorious military convicts to the newly opened Red Glasshouse, the UK's new high-security military prison on the Isle of Wight.

The prisoners standing at attention were a nasty lot: former conspirators of the Shardik scandal, collaborators to the Red Hand Brotherhood, or just random spies and assassins for the Chinese during the war, among other high-profile military offenders. Their uniforms, originally bearing the insignia of different ranks, as well as military decorations, were now stripped bare, bearing nothing but a dull prisoner's nametag. These men were no longer even regarded as soldiers; only convicted criminals, who stood little to no chance of ever knowing the outside of a prison again. And indeed, they didn't belong in civilised society.

Aside from being traitors, the newly selected inmates for the Red Glasshouse were, by nature, very unpleasant individuals. Assassins, fascists, turncoats, militia henchmen, war criminals, and terrorists, all with the blood of countless of innocents on their hands. Few felt remorse or redemption for what they had done; only an unceasing desire to return to their careers of crime at the first given opportunity. Combined with their advanced training in warfare tactics and strategies, they were literally a powder magazine waiting to explode.

While the prisoners stood waiting to be boarded, shooting their guards hateful looks every now and then, several trucks, which had just arrived at the base, stopped in front of the plane to deposit their cargo: used or worn-out military equipment cleared out from local barracks left over from the war, now shut down, including clothing, cooking and cleaning utensils, medical equipment, tools, and even weapons, to be reused in the prison.

As soldiers loaded the sealed containers onboard, stowing them in the cargo hold, the Marines performed a roll call, calling out the names of each of the prisoners, ticking them off the passenger list one by one, as the guards escorted them onboard, chaining them to their seats. With the tightest of security measures in place, and with each and every member of security well trained and experienced, even better than the Efrafan Owsla itself, at first glance, it seemed like nothing could possibly go wrong. Alas, that was only an illusion.

Nearby, the flight crew and escort squadron, assigned to guard the prisoners during transport, passed through the security checkpoint: Captain Leo Gallagher; co-pilot Don Travis; Marine Major Thomas Haywood, squadron leader; Lt Henry Hirsh, MoD supervisor and representative; and a twelve-man marine squadron, charged with delivering this flight of scumbags and their trash to their new home. Nobody was aware of the fact that there was a hidden mole lurking somewhere within that crew, with orders to make sure that the most fool-proof prisoner transport in history didn't go as planned.

With the prisoners all seated in their aft cabin section behind locked gates, securely restrained to their seats with handcuffs and leg shackles, and with the cargo all secured in the hold, the pilots announced their departure. The Marines and Hirsh sat up front, in what was usually the first class section on a jetliner. Soon, the convict transport plane was airborne, heading south over the British Isles, towards the Isle of Wight prison island off the coast of Hampshire.

The flight was halfway to its destination. Ordering his second-in-command to take over for a moment, Major Haywood joined Hirsh, who was pouring himself some coffee in the galley. This observer had come along for the ride at the last moment, much to Major Haywood's displeasure of having to babysit a non-combatant on this flight. But orders were orders. And that wasn't the only thing bothering Haywood.

Being a seasoned soldier, who had seen combat many times before, Major Haywood could sense something strangely off about this Lt Hirsh fellow. Looking at him from afar, the man seemed rather nervous, yet was doing a good job of not showing it. Nonetheless, Haywood didn't like having him on this plane, not without knowing what the hell was on his mind.

"So, tagging along to make sure we deliver those scumbags to the Glasshouse on time, Mr Hirsh?" asked the Marine, putting aside his weapon, and helping himself to a Dr Pepper from the icebox. How he wished he could have a cold beer, but the book made no exceptions for on-duty combatants and alcohol. Hirsh looked up, startled.

"Just making sure standard military protocol is followed, Major," he said curtly, sipping down his coffee, apparently trying to avoid conversation. Realizing he was getting nowhere, Haywood turned to return to his seat. He had better keep a sharp watch on this Hirsh character. The sooner they were on the ground the better.

Meanwhile, in the back a prisoner called out for the guard's attention, saying he needed to use the loo. Haywood nodded his permission. One of the Marines punched in the code in the electronic keypad that operated the gate locks, allowing a second Marine to enter the prisoner section, leaving his colleague to guard the open gate.

Releasing the prisoner, whose name was Stuart, a former Corporal charged with mutiny and murdering his CO, from his cuffs, he marched him up the isle to the prisoners' single lavatory in the rear of the aircraft. In contrast to the forward ones, this was an open cubicle, leaving little privacy for these high-security convicts, which were, by order, to be watched every minute they were not shackled to their seats.

Stuart undid his pants and took a seat on the john, but not to do his business as his guard assumed. As it happened, he had secret instructions for a different mission, which his associate on this flight had made sure to slip him before he was brought over from the detention facility where he was previously incarcerated.

Making sure the Marine wasn't looking at him, he carefully removed the toilet role from its housing, reaching for something concealed inside the cardboard cylinder. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary ballpoint pen; except, inside it, where the ink tube was supposed to be, there was a .22 caliber pistol cartridge with a tiny hammer and trigger rigged to the clip - what a firearm expert might call the typical zip gun.

Slipping the weapon up his sleeve, Stuart flushed the toilet and stood to return to his seat. With the Marine flanking him, he casually walked back down the aisle, his eyes fixed on what was going on up front, waiting for his accomplice's signal to strike…

Up front, Hirsh had also left his seat, supposedly to use the loo, to set his own part of the plan in motion, away from any prying eyes. Locking the lavatory door, he set to work. Reaching in the locker above the basin, he unscrewed the plastic container of pink liquid soap from its squirter. Reaching down the bottleneck with his fingers, he traced the tip of something wrapped in plastic wrapping, keeping it dry from the soap. He pulled out a peculiar cylindrical device filled with holes like a piece of Swiss cheese, with a spoon attached by a safety pin to the top – something otherwise known by experts as a type M84 stun grenade. Not a powerful explosive capable of catastrophic fragmentation, but certainly capable of wrecking havoc in a closed space like the cabin of this plane.

Reaching into his holster, making sure his own service revolver was cocked and ready, he cautiously opened the lavatory door ajar. Grenade in hand, he pulled the pin out, and, making sure he had a clear shot, he tossed it right down the centre of the aisle, where the unsuspecting Marines sat. Then, he hurryingly shut the door of the lavatory, plunking a pair of disposable rubber earmuffs used by soldiers in the artillery, which he had smuggled onboard as part of his plan, in his ears. Not a second too soon, all hell broke loose…

Back in the prisoners' seating area, Stuart watched Hirsh slip into the lavatory. This was the time. Casually reaching into his sleeve where he had tucked the zip gun, he pulled back on the clip, cocking the hammer. The instant he saw the stun grenade roll down the first class aisle, he spun round, setting off his weapon in the surprised guard's face, killing him instantly. Before the body of the dead Marine had even hit the aisle floor, with lightning-speed reflexes, Stuart had seized the man's weapon and ducked behind the nearest row of seats, just in time to escape the shockwave of the ensuing blast…

Up front, Haywood and his men never knew what hit them. The flash bang of the stun grenade sent the entire squadron to their knees screaming, blinded or with busted eardrums, others knocked out cold from concussion. But that was only the beginning of the party. Before anyone could recover, the real massacre had started, as the dazed and confused soldiers suddenly found themselves being shot at from opposite sides: the turncoat Hirsh on one side, and the escaped prisoner Stuart with his dead guard's gun on the other.

Some of the Marines finding themselves momentarily alive because of their bulletproof vests, attempted to retain control. One of them barely managed to undo the safety catch on his weapon and shoot Stuart dead, only for Hirsh to kill him a second later from behind. Caught in this inescapable death trap, within seconds, the cabin was awash with the blood spilt from a dozen murdered marines, which had just lost their last battle.

Up in the cockpit, behind their locked door, Captain Gallagher and co-pilot Travis heard the ear-splitting bang of the grenade going off through their headsets, followed by the ensuing gunfire. Gallagher, realising there was trouble, barked into his headset, "Mayday, mayday! We have a security breach onboard! Repeat, this is RAF-911, declaring –"

He was cut off in mid-sentence as he felt something cold being pressed sharply against his temple. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his colleague, the third accomplice in the hijacking, holding his own zip gun, which he had drawn from its hiding place under his seat the instant he had heard the commotion break out in the back, fixed on him. The last thing Captain Gallagher ever saw in this life was the flash of the firing bullet, which blew his brains out all over the cockpit.

Smirking at his dead victim, Travis quickly disabled the plane's transponder and radio beacons, causing them to vanish from the radar sweeps. Over the radio, he heard the Air Force flight controller on the ground attempting to regain contact, asking Captain Gallagher to repeat his interrupted last message, warning them that they had just vanished from the scope. Keeping com-1 open to keep monitoring ground control, Travis switched over to another, secure frequency on com-2.

"Jetstar-680, this is RAF-911, reporting recruiting package secure. Repeat, recruiting package is secure." A different voice on the other end answered him.

"_Roger that, RAF-911. Approaching your position now from your four o'clock."_ Looking out the side window, Travis saw the small Lockheed jet fly up alongside them, _"Divert from your original flight path and come to heading 190 at flight level 15,000 for escort, over."_ Travis complied and changed course, following the Lockheed southwest, towards the forbidden zone of New Forest. At that moment, a shaky and dishevelled Agent Hirsh entered the cockpit.

"How are we doing?"

"Everything going according to plan, sir. I've got Mr Crowley awaiting your report." Putting on the dead Captain Gallagher's headset, Travis reported.

"We've secured the plane, boss. No unwanted survivors left. But we lost Stuart in the shootout…" His boss's voice answered back this time.

"_Good job, Hirsh. My belief that you allegiance still lies on our side is momentarily restored. Twenty minutes to intercept. Make sure you stick to the schedule. Mr Travis, patch me into the intercom." _Hirsh sighed in frustration at the lack of praise; the only reason Crowley had recruited him to be his inside man in the hijacking was because Hirsh was yet another former enemy collaborator, but who had managed to worm his way out of trouble by framing his associates. With Crowley blackmailing him with a threat to expose him if he didn't cooperate, and with a promise of a generous share in the spoils of this crazy escapade, Hirsh had unwillingly decided to revert back to his old life of crime, one which he had been desperately trying to bury for years now.

Meanwhile, back in the main cabin, the prisoners had all been freed from their restraints and free to roam around the cabin of their hijacked plane, gloating over the bodies of their murdered guards. Many were busy stripping the bodies off their combat vests and weapons, which they distributed amongst themselves, some even going as far as to taking their wallets, watches and wedding rings as trophies, kicking and spitting at the dead men in malice. One of the prisoners, a former master-at-arms, had picked the lock of the arms' chest and was distributing the arsenal of assault rifles, bayonets, and hand grenades among the gang of newly recruited mercenaries.

The chatter over who had orchestrated this spectacular mass escape plan on their behalf was cut short as Crowley's voice boomed throughout the cabin on the intercom, which Travis had patched through, addressing his new recruits over the radio.

"_I want the attention of ever man onboard. Gentlemen, at this moment you're probably wondering who has just cut your incarceration short. That would be me, Colonel Harry Crowley, your new commander and leader. Some of you, I believe, I've had the pleasure of working with before, and I look forward to doing so again very soon; any newcomers, I look forward to welcoming you under my command, so that you may prove your worth to me on this mission. Rise and shine, gentlemen. Let's make history!" _

Cheers and applause broke out among the criminal mercenaries, which had just found themselves freed from prison and under the command of one of the most notorious hired guns in the world, whose reputation ran deep among the likes of them. On Hirsh's instruction, several men descended to the luggage compartment, and began fastening parachutes to the equipment, which they'd need for their ground operations. In the main cabin, parachutes were also being distributed around, as the crew prepared for bailout. In the tail section, a technician jettisoned the tail cone, opening up the emergency escape ramp. Another twenty minutes and they'd home-free…

Onboard the Lockheed jet, which the transport plane was now following, Crowley sat at his desk inside the luxurious cabin of his private jet, which had been converted to a mini-lounge, fitted with state-of-the-art electronics, a mini bar, pull-down bed, and of course his personal weapon's locker. Like most high-profile mercenaries of his breed, Crowley liked to travel in style, with all the luxuries his dirty money could buy. Sipping his drink, he turned to an armoured laptop fitted with a satellite antenna sitting on his desk, which his employer had supplied him with.

Entering an access code, he brought up a digital graph of Black Inferno, currently in lunar orbit, its ion cannon trained on Earth, fixing on the coordinates inserted by remote in its guidance system, preparing to fire. On his screen, Crowley got a green light that the satellite was armed and locked on target. Picking up the intercom, he spoke to his pilot.

"How much longer, Simmons?"

"_Ten minutes to intercept, sir. Transport plane following right behind. Travis reports the men are suited up and ready for bailout." _

Satisfied, Crowley hit the execute key, activating a ten-minute countdown to the first of two firings; one for now, and one timed to occur in precisely the same location 779 years ahead – interconnecting two distant eras across the valley of time in the process, via the ensuing wormhole. The gateway, he knew, would only remain open for a minute or two so they could pass, after which the wormhole would dissipate, sealing up the gateway and barring any unwelcome third party from following them through; and from anybody escaping back here to mess things up for them. Whatever awaited them on the other side, they were in control. Their mission: the reclamation of Earth for mankind!

Sam felt a nervous wreck as she piloted the glider Drake had purchased for this mission – ironically, a near-identical model to Jamie McEwen's - across the dead zone over New Forrest, an airsick Stonecrop struggling to make himself comfortable in the cramped back seat, trying not to puke. They had taken off from the abandoned former Sutch and Martin flight club airstrip, where Drake had kept the specially modified glider hidden, a little over an hour ago, making their way south towards New Forest.

Starting off from where Dr Johnson had done all those years ago, Sam couldn't suppress a sense of awe, realising they were finally coming down the home stretch. Any minute now, the warp, or whatever Dr Drake had called it, should materialise out of thin air, and they would learn what it was like to be first-time time travellers. And then, the real adventure would begin in earnest.

Santon had wished them luck and left them, rather hurryingly, to 'avoid attracting any prying eyes lurking out there'. Before he had however, he had taken Sam aside for a little talk of his own.

"I realise this new piece of information Drake revealed to you must be causing you doubts as to whether Johnson and his friends will accept you now," he had said, "My advice to you is that you don't reveal your surname until the time is right. Remember that." Sam had tried pointing out, just what the hell good that was supposed to do her, but Santon had turned and left them without another word.

Although the glider had a radio, Sam had been warned not to use it, unless it was an absolute emergency, with Drake and Santon tracking them on GPS via the Tracer on Stonecrop's neck. After all, someone who supposedly didn't even exist anymore breaking radio silence on an open frequency would attract too much attention if intercepted – not to mention alert any spies that Drake was sending his own agent out to warn Alan Johnson and his rabbit friends that their world was being threatened by invaders. That was of course if they didn't kick her out first, when they realised her dark secret…

Stonecrop, meanwhile, was lost in his own thoughts, trying to take his mind off his churning stomach, wishing he hadn't had such a big breakfast. Finally, he was on his way…home? Was that the correct word for it? Frankly, he couldn't really figure out how he felt. The human world had always been his home and now he was leaving it behind for good. Would he and Sam like it there in the future? The idea of meeting others of his own kind suddenly felt a bit scary to think of. And then there was Drake's final talk with Sam before they had left, which she had utterly refused to discuss with him. What had the scientist told her that she didn't want to talk about, even with him…?

Distracted by their thoughts, neither of them noticed the two planes suddenly enter their supposedly clear airspace. Hearing the roaring sound of the approaching engines in their baffles, Sam looked over her shoulder just in time to see the Lockheed pass only a few feet above them, with the DC-10 following close behind. Although neither aircraft touched them, the wake turbulence stirred up by the massive jet planes tearing through the sky was too much for the fragile plywood glider, which was sent into a violent spin.

Sam and Stonecrop both screamed in unison as they suddenly found themselves rolling around, as if being caught in the column of a killer tornado, completely out of control. The last thing Sam saw was a loose chunk of the glider's severed wing flying free before her eyes, realising that she had come all this way only to be killed in a mid-air collision. As such, she never saw the warp suddenly materialise out of thin air, creating a distortion the space-time continuum, and swallowing up all three aircraft into the void, catapulting them into the depths of futurity…

Meanwhile, back at Buxton Hall, Drake and Santon were watching Sam's flight via a GPS uplink tracking Stonecrop's Tracer on screen which Drake had ordered set up in his office for this purpose. Although not as good as a proper radio and transponder might have been, they couldn't risk it, as anyone could intercept their signal and give their game away. The Tracer was the safest option.

The two men watched as the glider entered the Forbidden Zone over New Forest, before turning westerly, just as Drake had instructed Sam. Suddenly, they saw the signal moving to and fro, almost as if the glider was being thrown about in midair, which, unbeknownst to either of them, was Crowley's air convoy strafing them. Drake and Santon of course had no way of knowing that, as they turned to stare at each other in alarm, wondering what was going on. Then, they saw the grid the glider was flying in suddenly become obscured by static, which was Black Inferno's artificial wormhole materialising. When the static had cleared, the signal was gone, implying they had gone through…or had they not?

A moment later, Santon's cell phone rang. The Chief Inspector walked away for a moment to take the call, which was an informant he had hired in the RAF on Drake's request to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. When he came back, he was frowning in disappointment.

"RAF Air Traffic Control has just reported that convict transport plane inbound for the Isle of Wight has vanished. Intelligence satellites tracked it following a smaller, unidentified plane into the Forbidden Zone…straight into Sam's flight path. I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm so sorry…"

For an instant, Drake was speechless with horror; what if his messenger was indeed dead and Crowley was on his way to the future together with a bunch of escaped thugs? Had their efforts all been for naught? Deciding not to despair just yet, remembering how Alan had gotten into much tougher scrapes than this and lived to talk about it, he turned back to Santon.

"No, that Sam is a too strong-willed a girl to go out like this. They've made it through…I just know they have," he said to the sceptical Santon, "Now it's up to them to protect the future." He walked over to his office window, staring at the fading Aurora visible in the distance, over New Forest, which was dissipating as quickly as it had started a few minutes ago.

"God's speed, Alan. The battle to defend what we believe in is now coming to you and your friends…"

**Author's note:** Finally, we're shifting back to where we left off at the end of the first story. Coming up next, our first glimpse at the human/rabbit colony and how it evolved over the four years following the Battle of Efrafa. Most of the original characters will be returning, as well as a whole bunch of OC characters of the latest generation. Enjoy and please, _please_, review!


	27. Chapter 27 An Eventful Frith's Eve

**31****st**** December 2794, Watership Down**

**Frith's Eve**

The snow from the blizzard the night before had settled across the vast Meadows of Fenlo, a region that had once been southern England, but otherwise the morning sky was clear. The winters in this future age were long and bitter cold because of the shifted climate, lasting from November all the way till early March, forcing the creatures of Frith to take refuge in their dens, trying not to starve until spring came. With the exception of one.

On the high hills, formerly known as the Downs of Hampshire, was a double colony of the most unusual sort. On the western summit of Watership Down, with a view of Beacon Hill, was a man-made compound – the only human settlement in the whole of England, and perhaps the whole planet, now deprived of the long-forgotten human civilisation. This was the home of a unique group of settlers.

Inside the thatch-roof cottage built in the centre of this compound, which resembled a farm, a young red-headed girl of around twelve lay dozing off in her hammock. Lucy Annette Johnson, born in London, England in 2004, was the daughter of the legendary Dr Alan Johnson; the youngest member of their five-person colony, which included herself, her father, her godfather Derek, their handyman Hotdog, and her stepmother Josie, widow of the late Major James McEwen. And, of course, their neighbours.

Beneath a lone beech tree on the other side of the Down, with a view to the north, was the Honeycomb, home warren of the Watership rabbits, who lived in peace and harmony with this last remnant of mankind. The story of how this fascinating double-colony came to be went back four long years, when the anthropomorphic lagomorphs, as the rabbits of the future were formally referred to, first met intelligent, 21st century humans, centuries after mankind's extinction.

It all started in 2012, when Alan Johnson first discovered this post-human world, after accidentally flying through a time-distortion warp caused by a rare coronal mass ejection, bending space-time between the two eras and opening a gateway into futurity. Stranded with three other companions, Alan had befriended the rabbits which would eventually become the Watershipers, originally a band of hlessil fleeing their doomed warren. Together, they had undergone a long and perilous journey across the wilderness known as the forbidden Dark Territory, having many adventures on the way, finally leading up to a climactic battle against the notorious General Woundwort – the descendant of the same rabbit warlord who had destroyed the human race centuries earlier. Through hardships and sacrifice, in the end, they had triumphed.

With the most feared rabbit tyrant that had ever lived finally defeated, Alan, his family, and their rabbit friends had built a whole new life for themselves. Without the threat of war or enemies out to destroy them, and with mankind once more reintroduced into the world, the colony on Watership Down had thrived into a entirely new community of intelligent rabbits and human beings living together in peaceful coexistence. And Lucy, being the youngest, had the advantage of being part of this new world from the very start. In other words, she felt like the happiest girl on earth. Her life, however, hadn't always been this perfect.

Her early childhood hadn't been particularly happy. When she was still a toddler, her father had been called away to war in the Far East, which had kept him separated from the family for three long years. Then, when she was seven, another terrible tragedy had befallen the family; an old foe of her father's had appeared into their lives, bent on destroying the family. Even now, she still had occasional nightmares of the brutal madman who had murdered her mother and kidnapped her, keeping her locked away from the outside world for over a year, passing her off as dead, with the purpose of making her father suffer, before returning to kill him too. But in the end, superior might and justice had won.

With Russell Robbins, otherwise known as Ronald Fields, also dead and gone, following his and Alan's final man-to-man confrontation, the Johnson family had finally found peace and true happiness in the new world. Although born in the 21st century, Lucy had long since suppressed any memories she had of that long-gone world, where she'd only known misery. The 28th century was now her home – the world of rabbits was where she truly belonged.

As she lay there, lazily dozing off, she heard her bedroom door creak open and someone tiptoe inside. She knew the wake-up call that was coming before it did. Suddenly, she felt a familiar hand gently grab her ankle trailing over the side of the hammock and start tickling her foot, "Wake up, Lucy. You don't want to sleep in all day, do you?" Overwhelmed with ticklish giggles, Lucy looked up at her smiling father, Alan.

Alan Johnson hadn't changed much over the years. Now in his late thirties, he was still tall and handsome, with broad shoulders and a muscular built, perfected over years of hard physical exercise. The only impairment to his good looks were the round glasses he wore, and the old battle scars still faintly visible all over his body. With his long hair tied in a short ponytail, he looked like a younger version of Steven Seagal. A born adventurer with a brilliant scientific mind, he fitted well in this world, just like his daughter.

Originally a research scientist of biology, Alan used to teach natural sciences at the Royal University of London. But he hardly thought himself as a college professor any longer. A hero for his role in Woundwort's downfall during the Battle of Efrafa, he was now the Chief Rabbit's closest trustee and representative, or _quaestor_ – in other words, the liaison between the rabbits and the humans, as well as the _de facto_ leader of their little community. To this day, he was well respected by the rabbits of Watership Down, a _heart-brother_ to the whole warren, as his rabbit friends often referred to him.

"Okay, Daddy, I'm up! No need to tickle me to death!" Lucy giggled, sitting up in her hammock and pulling her foot out of her father's grip, "Frith of Inle, we're on holiday! Can't I sleep in late for once…?"

"Tell that to your friends expecting you outside, princess," said Alan, "Not that I blame them; it's such a lovely day for sledging…" With a gasp, Lucy hurryingly jumped out of bed to dress, as her father stepped outside to give her some privacy. Finally, there was a break in the heavy weather that had been persisting for several days now, keeping them confined indoors, which meant she and her friends could now go out at last and play in the snow. And, boy, did she have a surprise for them!

Pulling on her oversized winter boots, she stood in front of a full-length mirror, fashioned out of several old bathroom mirror panes joined together, doing up her long hair in a ponytail. She glanced at a picture hanging on the wall beside the mirror, taken on their first anniversary, showing her and her adoptive rabbit-brother Pipkin, her father playfully dangling her younger self by her ankles as they posed for the camera. She smiled at the happy memory, as she stood admiring herself in the mirror. She sure was changing into something more than just being Daddy's innocent little girl. Indeed, for a twelve-year old, she was quite a sight.

A pretty young girl, slender and athletic-looking, slowly getting taller as she neared puberty, with hazel eyes, just like her father's, she looked like a little female version of Indiana Jones, with her khaki trousers, shirt and boots. Unlike most girls her age, she wore no makeup or jewellery, save for a couple of bracelets woven out of old circuit-wire and a badger's-tooth pendant, taken from a beast her father had shot last year. She could still remember the ferocious creature that had moved into their orchard the previous spring and nearly attacked her Uncle Fiver during the harvest, before being shot. Around her waist, she also wore a leather utility belt, from which hang a steel crossbow, a hunter's knife and a sheath of bolt arrows – a present from her father on her last birthday.

Any common person would think this was either a fancy dress or simply a reckless child playing with a dangerous weapon. On the contrary, dressing as if on safari or carrying weapons was very common around here, and Lucy was disciplined and properly trained by her father to use it responsibly. Even her bedroom, built inside the thatch roof of the cottage, testified to her unusual way of life: a hammock for a bed, a wood heater fashioned out of an old oil drum for warmth, a closet containing a wardrobe fit only for wilderness, a wall lined with shelves containing some books, family pictures, outdoor equipment, a collection of ornaments fashioned out of scavenged everyday trinkets, and even some jury-rigged monkey-bars and weights in a corner for gymnastics. Beneath her giggly, playful personality, who still liked her father to tickle her silly, Lucy was nature's hard-core child at heart.

Donning a camouflaged hooded winter coat and her gloves, she hurried downstairs. Their home, although secluded and isolated, was fitted with all the proper facilities needed to make life away from civilization bearable, if not independent. Consisting of half a dozen scattered structures, each part of the compound served a different purpose: adjacent to the house was a glass greenhouse, built out of bits of old steel infrastructure and glass panes, just like the infrastructure of the house. This controlled environment, built entirely by her father, served as their main food source during the cold winter months, as well as a place to grow medicinal herbs, to furnish the medical chest of their home infirmary.

On either side of the house were a couple of barn-like buildings; one was the laboratory and workshop - the place where Alan and Derek Shaw, the colony's two scientific minds, put their skills to good use; opposite that was the warehouse for their winter stores and other supplies. On the far side of the house was an enclosure, housing an orchard of fruit trees and a plough field for crops, now bare from the winter frost. Also, there was the barn, where the colonists kept their livestock and horses. A water tower beside the barn, refilled daily by a pair of hand-operated pumps drawing water from the Dark River at the foot of the Down, provided a sustainable water supply for the colony. And last, but not least, there was the windmill out in the middle of the field.

This structure was the colonists' powerhouse. With sail blades fashioned out of parachute nylon, it used the non-exhaustible winds of the high hills to turn a small dynamo, which, in turn, supplied power to a small battery bay built inside the shack at the base of the structure, providing enough power to keep the low-voltage electric lights and some electrical equipment around the compound, running. Nothing fancy, but sufficient.

Her father was waiting on the porch to see her off, "Now, don't you forget your chores, dear. Your Uncle Deke and Hotdog are out working at the Hut and won't be back until nightfall. Make sure you're at the greenhouse, two o'clock sharp, to land a hand." Tonight was New Year's Eve – also celebrated by their rabbit friends as _Frith's_ Eve – and they were preparing for the annual feast. Although Alan didn't like to keep her from enjoying the day out in the snow with her friends, after two weeks of boring confinement to the house because of the weather, he always insisted that everyone did their share of chores on time.

"I won't. Love you, Daddy!" she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurrying out onto the Down.

"Have fun, dear! And, remember, stay within sight of the Down!" Alan called after her, smiling at the sight of his daughter looking so happy and full of life, if not a tad bit concerned. Although the weather was clear, there were still a good number of other dangers out there. Ever since settling down here, Alan always made sure his daughter stayed cautious at all times outside, with a firm hand whenever she disobeyed the safety rules. Having already lost her once before, he strictly forbid her from leaving the boundaries of the Down, so he could keep a close eye on her. Even now, as they were nearing their fourth anniversary in the new world, the memories of the nightmare he and his friends had gone through still persisted. At times, he lived with the fear that some new enemy might come along and disturb their peaceful lives once again… Dismissing his worrying thoughts, he donned his own jacket and hurried out, to tend to his own work.

Lucy made her way along the footpath towards the Honeycomb, humming to herself. Stopping at the foot of a tree with a hollow partway up, she tapped the bark with the hilt of her knife, to attract the attention of the dweller residing within. A red squirrel, enlarged way beyond the average size of her long-vanished 21st century counterpart, just like every other animal in this world, emerged from the hollow, sniffing the air.

"Hallo, Tassel," Lucy greeted the family pet, whom they'd adopted a couple of years back after finding her as a newborn kit, the sole survivor of an abandoned litter. Reaching into her pocket, she took out a handful of peanuts. Tassel darted down the tree, and started eating the treat out of Lucy's outstretched hand with great gusto. Although, unlike the rabbits, she couldn't speak – only the lagomorphs shared their human intelligence -, the mutual trust between them was clear. Their second family pet, Yona the hedgehog, was currently hibernating in his den somewhere and wouldn't be emerging, begging for treats, until next spring.

Leaving Tassel to her meal, Lucy hurried along, heading for the northern summit of the Down. In contrast to their side of the hill, this side was pristine and untouched by man, as part of her father's promise to Hazel-rah of never intruding upon their warren - the first ever official treaty made between man and animal to share the land fairly and in peace. With a couple of small exceptions.

Close to the warren stood a marble statue of a giant rabbit; large, handsome and brave-looking, this rabbit-Adonis, slowly turning a mossy green from age, was the long-deceased El-ahrairah, the first lagomorph. Standing tall and proud, much like the Piper at the Gates of Dawn, his likeness watched over the warren and its people – including the dead. Not too far away from the statue were also half a dozen marker-stones and crosses, bearing names – the graves of the brave souls who had died in the Battle of Efrafa four years ago.

The frozen grass plain around the beech tree where the rabbits usually snoozed and grazed in spring, was, not surprisingly, deserted. With such bitter cold, the elder rabbits preferred to snooze underground, where it was warm and cosy. Even the Owsla wasn't out on its usual morning patrol because of the recent heavy weather. And today, being Frith's Eve, even the stern, bullying Captain Bigwig had to give his Owsla a break.

Crouching low so she could fit, Lucy crawled down the narrow entrance run. Inside, was a massive chamber with a domed ceiling, held up by the gigantic roots of the beech tree above. Although underground, with no access to sunlight other than the entrance, the interior was blazing with artificial light generated by a number of light bulbs strung up in little knots and crannies along the burrow walls, powered by an underground power line from to the windmill, keeping the place lit day and night. Although the rabbits were far from adopting human technology, preferring to keep the society of their ancestors intact, a few small luxuries like electric lighting worked to the benefit of both parties.

Several rabbits were running around the main chamber, decorating the place with pieces of ivy, holly and yew, in preparation for the upcoming feast. Some of them noticed Lucy enter and hurried over to greet her, not looking the least fearful of the human that had just entered their warren. As far as they were concerned, she and her family were one of them.

"Frithaes, Lucy," said a creamy coffee-brown-furred buck with strong, but gentle, wise eyes, coming up to nuzzle her on the nose, Lucy returning the greeting in the same rabbit-like manner. Hazel-rah, the Chief Rabbit of Watership Down and a good friend of her father's, was like an uncle to her. Originally a lowly outskirter, Hazel, along with Alan, had led their group of Sandleford refugees all the way to Watership Down and through the finally battle with Efrafa, eventually becoming Chief Rabbit. A natural-born leader with courage and a warm heart, he was the undisputed and beloved Chief of his people.

Following right behind him was his mate, Hyzenthlay. A former Efrafan slave of outsider ancestry, as the former Efrafans used to refer to any alien rabbits they captured or enslaved, she had been the leader of a group of rebel does determined to escape their life of slavery. After Efrafa was destroyed and all the slaves liberated, she and her friends had settled down on Watership Down, mating with the bucks and mothering the latest generation of the warren. Gentle, sensible, caring and strong-willed, Hyzenthlay was devoted to her family and warren, as well as a strong supporting figure to those around her, always offering encouragement and affection to the weak or to those in need. She was also well-known for her campaigning for equal rights between bucks and does, much to the disapproval of some of the more traditional rabbits of their male-dominated society. And Lucy, human or not, was no exception to her warm, motherly affection.

"It's so good to see you again, dear," said the doe warmly with her deep, Scottish-like accent, standing on her hind legs so Lucy could give her a hug, "I'm so happy you'll be with us to celebrate Frith's Eve, my dear child."

"Pleasure is all mine, Auntie Hyzenthlay," said Lucy, boring deep into her soft, warm fur. If a stranger were present, he would have been astonished by the fact that all these greetings exchanged between them were spoken in Lapine, rather than English. Unlike her father and fellow colonists who only spoke a broken dialect of the lagomorphs' native tongue, Lucy, having the advantage of learning it from an early age, was a fluent speaker, impressing her elders.

The pair had hardly pulled apart when Lucy met with yet another greeting. A pair of strong paws suddenly grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides, and lifting her off her feet into a bear-hug. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the smiling face of an enormous rabbit with a mane of fur growing around his neck and head. Thlayli, commonly known among his friends as Bigwig, was Captain of Owsla and Hazel's second-in-command. The strongest and most courageous of the Watershippers, he was a natural-born warrior, another war veteran from the Battle of Efrafa, whose worse time in life was when the world was at peace. Even now, four years after the final battle, he still insisted on keeping his easy-going Owsla up to scratch at all times, with regular training and patrols, much to their dismay. Although not known for his sense of humour or fun, being a stern, no-nonsense type of fellow, who often bullied anyone who'd step out of line, he still had a soft spot for some things, Lucy being one of them.

"Well, well, well, looks like I've caught a little ithe," said Bigwig half-jokingly, playfully rumpling her hair with his massive paw, using the other to keep her locked in his rigid embrace. Hazel and Hyzenthlay smiled with amusement.

"Bigwig, stop it, you're ruining my hair!" Lucy squealed, her vision obscured by her own messed-up hair falling across her eyes, her ponytail ruined. Ever since she had moved here as a little child, she had always been a favourite amongst the rabbits, who loved her like one of their own, always playing with her, nuzzling her, letting her ride around on their backs, and, in Bigwig's case, tease and toy with her. Lucy, of course, liked all that loving attention…even Bigwig's playful roughhousing.

"Constant vigilance, young one!" said the mighty veteran gruffly, keeping it up, "Has the spirit of the festivities made you forget your training in the Junior Owsla so soon? If I were elil, you'd be touching noses with the Black Rabbit of Inle!" Finally, he relented, but still retained his grip on the giggling Lucy, who was beginning to feel a little embarrassed by being held captive by this oaf of a rabbit.

"Eh…Bigwig, could you put me down, please?"

"No, I don't think so," chuckled the mighty veteran in amusement, "Come and say hallo to everyone."

"Bigwig, really, this isn't very dignified! I can walk on my own two feet…!" Lucy protested, still wriggling in vain to get free, but Bigwig would hear none of it.

Carrying the wriggling human girl under one arm like a teddy bear, the large rabbit strode into the main assembly chamber of the Honeycomb, with the trapped Lucy having no choice but to follow suit. This was where both rabbits and humans would gather together on cold days like this, trading stories or playing Bobstones.

Some of the senior rabbits were gathered around, watching a game of Bobstones. A greying, elderly rabbit with a large built similar to Bigwig's was playing against another, younger buck of around Lucy's age. Captain Holly, the most senior rabbit in the warren, had been Captain of Owsla at Sandleford before joining Hazel's group. Once a proud and snobbish rabbit, he had soon shown his positive side with his support and courage throughout their journey and during the Battle of Efrafa. After the fall of Woundwort, he had become the Watershipers' first ambassador at Vleflain, the new warren founded by the now-liberated former Efrafans.

His young competitor was Speedwell Junior, named after his father Bluebell's deceased cousin. He and his other siblings were the first litter to arrive on Watership Down - the first of a whole new generation of human-friendly rabbits. Adolescents now, they were growing into sensible, brave and good-hearted rabbits, due to join Bigwig's Owsla as trainees next season. Speedwell had even inherited his uncle's skill at Bobstones, giving even the warren's senior champions like Holly and Bigwig a run for their flayrah.

Their audience were a mixture of former Sandlefordians, Efrafans and other nationalities, which made up the peaceful, multinational senior population of the warren. There was Silver, the late Threarah's tub-of-lard-fat but good-natured nephew and young Speedwell's uncle, the brother of his mother Violet; Hawkbit, a sarcastic and often irate, but otherwise friendly, grey buck; Dandelion, a slim, golden-furred buck and a good friend of Hawkbit's, was the warren's best storyteller; Blackberry, a genius and inventive buck, once an advisor on the Threarah's Council, now served as an advisor to Hazel-rah.

Also, there was Fiver, Hazel's seer brother, a small, runty buck, but very wise and caring, and the closest thing to a brother to Alan; Strawberry, a slightly obese, ginger-furred buck, who came from a dishonest warren the Sandleford refugees had encountered on their journey here. He and his now-deceased mate Nildrohein had deserted their master, the notorious Cowslip, in favour of a new life of freedom. Sadly, Nildrohein had been killed during the Efrafan siege on the Down before she could make a fresh start. Finally, there was Pipkin, the youngest of the original Sandleford group, an orphan whom Alan had taken under his wing when they'd first met and raised him like his own son, making him Lucy's step-brother.

Several does were also there, watching the game. Aside from Hyzenthlay, there was her sister Thethuthinang, another former Efrafan slave, who was Blackberry's mate and the mother of his children; Vilthuril, the mate of Fiver, a small, timid doe like her mate, but a caring and dedicated mother. And finally, there was Nelthilta, Hawkbit's mate, a young, blabbering doe, with a tendency of getting on everyone's nerves sometimes, especially Hawkbit's, but still a loving soul. They were the only couple that still had no kittens.

"…Bobstone guess is four."

"Very good, Speedwell," said Holly, revealing the four little stones he had been concealing under his forepaws, "Your uncle would be proud, young bucko." The young rabbit smiled triumphantly, as the spectators cheered their new Bobstone champion ("Big deal! As I recall, I could beat his uncle at every game," muttered Hawkbit sarcastically). Behind Speedwell, his brothers Buckthorn, named after their second deceased uncle, and Acorn, named after another member of the original Sandleford group, cheered aloud, congratulating their brother.

As Bigwig emerged with Lucy, the rabbits turned their attention away from the game, and hurried over to greet their visitor. The burly rabbit had hardly released her, when Lucy found herself swarmed by a sea of fur, as the rabbits lovingly nuzzled her in greeting.

"Lucy!" cried Pipkin with joy, jumping into her arms, almost knocking her to the floor. Although a late adolescent now, Pipkin hadn't grown much in size over the years, if not in chubbiness, still the adorable, innocent, good-natured rabbit, as well as the pluckiest in spirit. Of all the rabbits, Alan had personally given him a proper human education, putting him way ahead, intelligent-wise, of the rest of his friends. Gradually, the once-insecure and skittish dwarf rabbit, haunted by the death of his parents, had vanished, and a confident and responsible young buck had emerged. "Happy Frith's Eve, ma rusita!"

"This is a surprise!" said Dandelion, also rushing forward to say hello, "Will you be joining us when I tell the story of El-ahrairah and the Great Freeze tonight?"

"Never mind the nuter's boring stories again! How about you and the Junior Owsla help me pull a prank on Bigwig instead?" said Hawkbit, craning his neck so Lucy could scratch him between the ears, "I still owe him some payback for having us work like stinking does on Frith's Eve…!" In preparation for the feast, the rabbits would be helping out in the greenhouse, harvesting flayrah, something Hawkbit wasn't particularly looking forward to. Nelthilta, who could be as lazy as her mate at times, pulled a face at him. Behind him, Bigwig shot them all a warning glare, implying that the first idiot who would dare pull some funny prank on him would rue the day he was born.

"Eh…Do you mind? I can't breathe!" Lucy squealed from beneath the rigid furry embrace, trying not to laugh from the rabbits' noses and whiskers tickling her all over as they continued nuzzling her in delight. Finally, the excitement died down and she was able to get back on her feet again. "I'm so glad to see you all!"

"Pleasure is all ours, young one," said Holly, walking over to greet her in a more dignified manner that the younger rabbits. He placed his paws over her shoulders, pulling her close, "Your father made this happy warren possible. You and your family are always welcome here." Lucy wrapped her arms around the aging rabbit's neck, giving him a hug.

"Yes, thanks to Alan, it's good riddance to slimy old Woundwort. Born a loser and died a loser, that rotter," chanted Hawkbit, earning a few laughs from the other rabbits.

"May he rot in the utmost depths of the Shadowlands forever," put in Nelthilta, visibly shuddering at the memory of her last encounter with General Woundwort: being dragged in front of the Owslafa Council for interrogation under torture, only to be saved in the nick of time by Alan's rescue party, shortly before Efrafa had fallen. Even now, four years later, she still had a bit of a crush on the human for saving her and her friends, much like a younger Pipkin once had.

It was then that Lucy suddenly realised a couple of faces she had been expecting to see were absent, "Say, where are Bluebell and Violet?" The faces of the couple's three sons fell at these words.

"Parli isn't feeling well again," explained Speedwell grimly, explaining how their father had been out coaching the junior Owsla that morning in a sky-jump exercise, when he had collapsed into a seizure, "Marli and Josie are with him now."

"Third time this season," said Hazel sadly, who had joined in the game with Hyzenthlay, "He's getting worse every time."

Her cheerful spirit shattered at this bad news, Lucy excused herself and made her way down to the sleeping burrows in the heart of the warren. In truth, she, just like everyone else, knew of Bluebell's heart condition that had been troubling him for a while now. Lucy could still remember when they had brought him back home after the Battle of Efrafa gravely injured at the hands of Robbins and in need of a heart transplant. Although they had been fortunate to find a donor then – his cousin Speedwell's heart, another war fatality, had been the perfect tissue match – and successfully performed the live-saving operation against all odds, Bluebell had not been so lucky after all.

Starting with loss of breath, fainting spells, chest pains and fatigue whenever he exerted himself, Bluebell's health had rapidly declined in the months following his operation. Eventually, he had collapsed into a seizure during an Owsla drill, making them realise that something had gone terribly wrong. Josh had finally determined that his new heart, although tissue-compatible, had been a misfit; Bluebell had an enlarged heart, under constant strain from the pressure of his smaller chest cavity. Because of that compression, there wasn't enough blood being pumped by the heart, causing it to back up into the lungs like a wet sponge, and overtaxing the organ in its efforts to keep up. Simply put, if he exerted himself even slightly, a seizure would kick in, leaving him at the mercy of anyone nearest to him to get him to Josie for CPR.

Evaluating his condition, Josie had given him only about a year to live. Surprisingly, Bluebell had held on for nearly four so far, but his life was no longer what it used to be. Unable to do anything strenuous, he had been forced to retire from the Owsla and the Junior Owsla, and always urged to stay close to the warren. At times, he couldn't help himself and do something foolish, like today, which meant gambling with his life.

Lucy entered Bluebell's burrow, where the sick buck lay resting on some straw bedding. Josie, the colony's physician was also there, taking his pulse, aided by her two rabbit assistants: Bluebell's mate Violet, a skilled healer rabbit, and their eldest child and only daughter Bluebella, who was being trained as a healer by her mother.

"Hallo, Lucy, please come in," Violet said, as she and her daughter turned to greet her warmly, in spite of the grim occasion. Lucy returned their greeting with a hug for each doe, before turning to Bluebell. The buck was awake and conscious, but his declining health was apparent: although still quite young, his dark-brown fur was slowly turning a shade of grey, making him look aged and tired. Across his chest, the old scar from his transplant operation was still visible beneath his fur. But that wasn't enough to suppress his comical spirit.

"Frith of Inle, an ithe!" cried Bluebell in mock-fear, "Oh, please don't eat me! Oh Frith, I'm dying of fear…!" He pretended to drop dead from a heart attack. But as it often happened, his thirst for cracking a joke came at the worst possible moment.

"That's not funny, Bluebell!" snapped Violet incredulously, scolding her mate, "And in front of your daughter too! Don't you realise you might have been taken by the Black Rabbit of Inle today…?" Obviously she thought his condition was not something to be taken lightly, much less to pass it off with a cheap laugh. Lucy, seeing Bluebella's frightened expression, who had, for a moment, almost taken his act for the real thing, thought Violet had a good point. She turned to Josie.

"How's he doing?"

"He'll be all right," she said, taking off her stethoscope and preparing a shot, "His heart rate was up to almost three hundred beats a minute when they brought him in. It's a miracle it didn't lead to heart failure… Damn it, Bluebell, how many times must I tell you? _You're not supposed to exert yourself_! What were you thinking?"

"I was only having a bit of fun with the children," protested the buck, looking rather hurt. Being a former Owsla scout, he really missed all the patrols and combat exercises he used to attend back in his Sandleford days, as well as his swimming, and even digging, all of which he was now strictly barred from, "Can't I even coach the children in some basic Owsla exercises…?"

"I've told you, Bluebell, you have to give up on your old habits if you want to live," said Josie, trying to be as sympathetic as possible, "If you don't stop his recklessness and come to grips with your delicate condition, one of these days you won't get lucky. You'll die, plain and simple." Bluebella stifled a sob; although, like her brothers, she had long since accepted the fact that their father might not live much longer, it hurt her bad to see him like this. Her mother pulled her close to comfort her.

"Hush, now, dear. You have to be strong for all of us."

Josie finished packing up her kit, "Well, I've got household duties to attend to back at the house. I'll see you again this evening at the feast." She turned and walked out of the burrow.

Lucy felt so sorry for Bluebell as she watched Josie leave; she understood all too well how frustrating it must be for him, being forced to live on the sidelines like some invalid, unable to do any of the things he once loved so much. Unfortunately, Josie had explained that there was nothing that could be done for him, save for another transplant, which was impossible. She remembered how she'd always volunteer to take their children out to play as kittens, while Violet was busy tending to her sick mate.

Bidding the sulking Bluebell goodbye, promising to come visit him later at the feast, and maybe bring him some of her father's pickled carrot-and-sauerkraut treats he loved to cheer him up, Lucy left, to go and meet her friends. Aside from Bluebell and Violet's children, now nearly grown-up, the rest of the Watership youngsters were around her age now; she always found it a bit weird that she had known them all since birth, starting off being a big sister to them, yet they all eventually surpassed her age-wise as they grew older, owing to the simple fact that one human year was equivalent to four for the rabbits.

The Junior Owsla had their own private meeting spot only a short distance from the Honeycomb, on the edge of the Down, overlooking Caesar's Belt. This club had been Pipkin and Lucy's idea, which they had founded with Alan, Bigwig and the rest of the Owsla veterans acting as their instructors, dedicated to preserving the trials and efforts of those who had started this colony, and all the valuable lessons of friendship and unity they had learned through their experience.

A group of eighteen bucks and does, including Lucy, resembling the Boys' Scouts, were the Junior Owsla of Watership Down. As often happens in rabbit society, the strongest in a group was, by rule, the leader, and in this case, it was Lucy's best friend, Sandwort, the eldest son of Holly. Big and strong for his young age, courageous, and even reckless at times, he easily inspired the other youngsters, bucks and does alike, to look up to him as their leader. Lucy, whom he loved like a sister and vice-versa, was his right paw, so to speak, the second-in-command of their group.

Aside from the two of them, there were Sandwort's younger siblings, Melsa, Crowla and Pimpernel, named after another deceased member of the original Sandleford group. Also, there were Hyzenthlay and Hazel's daughters, Snowdrop, Gillia, Tindra and the eldest of the four, Primrose. Other members included Thethuthinang and Blackberry's children, Foxglove, Frogbit, Sparrow and Yale; and finally, Fiver and Vilthuril's four sons, Forest, Walnut, Peanut, Almond, and Little Threar, the youngest and smallest of them all. While the reckless Sandwort on the top inspired strength and daring, on the bottom, timid Little Threar was the voice of reason amongst the group, taking after his father's wisdom.

Admitting does into the Junior Owsla had initially been a subject of some debate, as it was extremely uncommon for the weaker sex to be doing things meant only for bucks. But thanks to Hyzenthlay's pioneering for equal rights for does, furthered by Lucy's own support, that ancient taboo had soon been overcome, if not half-heartedly by some of the more traditional bucks like Blackberry or Bigwig. Together, the Watership youngsters made a good team, having their own adventures and escapades, with the occasional supervision or assistance of the adults. This, in turn, deepened their friendship and permitted the younger generation to learn to respect and support each other from an early age, in sharp contrast to Sandleford's divided elite/outskirter class system, or Efrafa's slavery regime, now both buried beneath the dust of history.

Lucy approached the boulder where the Junior Owsla held their meetings. To her utmost surprise, there was no one there…or so she thought. Before she could unravel this strange silence, she heard a voice yell 'Charge!' and next thing she knew, she was being tackled to the ground by a group of young rabbits that had sprang at her from hidden scrapes underneath the snow where they had buried themselves, catching her by surprise.

Despite her training, Lucy had no time to dodge this surprise attack; in an instant, she found herself flat on the ground, the youngsters pinning her arms and legs, immobilising her. Looking up, she saw a familiar large rabbit sitting on her chest, grinning down at her.

"Sandwort! You idiot, you scared me!" she shrieked, yet couldn't help but laugh along with her friends. Sandwort, a large, husky buck with steel-grey fur like his father's, only fluffier from his mother Clover's Angora genes, nuzzled her in greeting, smirking.

"Burial ambush," he chuckled, "Bigwig said we ought to try it out." Lucy rolled her eyes; she should have known Bigwig would train the Junior Owsla to pull that old trick, and then suggest they try it out on her. Maybe she ought to go along with her Uncle Hawkbit's idea and pull the most embarrassing prank they could cook up on Bigwig after all… But, thanks to her father's training in Marine combat skills, she had a couple of surprises of her own up her sleeve…

Noticing Sandwort had let his guard down, enjoying the victorious cheers from the rest of their group, Lucy seized her opportunity; with a sudden backward leap, she sent the unsuspecting rabbit flying off of her, turning the tables on him. In an instant, she had Sandwort pinned under her, using her hands to pin his paws over his head in a wrist-lock. She grinned down at her friend.

"Constant vigilance, remember?" she chuckled, throwing Bigwig's taunt back at Sandwort, "Remember the Owsla saying? 'The price of freedom is eternal vigilance!'" she said, quoting another of Bigwig's favourite mottos (ironically, the very same one used centuries earlier by the SAS). But Sandwort also had his own backup plan worked out. Another valuable lesson he had learned, in this case from Bluebell, was to exploit any weakness the opponent possessed. And, being such close friends with Lucy, he knew of her own little weakness…

Reaching up, he nuzzled her in the armpit. The effect was an instant squirm of ticklish giggles from Lucy, who loosened her grip. Satisfied that he was turning the tide in his favour, Sandwort kept it up. Pretty soon, he had Lucy pinned again as he continued tickling her senseless, the rest of the Junior Owsla also joining in the fun.

"All right, all right, you win!" Lucy shrieked, between her gales of laughter. Finally, they relented and Sandwort helped her to her feet. They both laughed; even when they pulled such pranks on each other, they never held any hard feelings whatsoever.

"Well, where's the surprise?" asked Primrose impatiently. Being the eldest doe, not to mention the most beautiful in the whole warren, taking after her mother's good looks, her sisters and cousins all looked up to her as something of a matriarch, much like the bucks did with Sandwort, giving her an air of great self-importance, which occasionally caused her to go way over her head. Although she wasn't selfish or mean, she still had her pride, being the popular, eldest child of the Chief Rabbit and all. But, despite her occasional arrogance, Lucy still liked her.

She led them to the edge of a purposely-built incline which run down the side of the Down, leading down into the open plains below. Standing there, covered with a snow-drenched piece of canvas, was a wooden sail-sled, a Christmas present from her godfather Derek.

The colony's skilled engineer, with a reputation of being able to built just about anything out of virtually nothing, had fashioned the craft out of old packing-crate planking, with some twisted lengths of titanium piping for the skids and mast, and some leftover parachute nylon and cord for the sail and rigging. A couple of small aircraft seats served as the seating place for two passengers. Like it often happened, there was no instructor; everything they built, they had to learn to use on their own, through trial and error. Although her father would have preferred that he or Derek accompany them during the first few trial runs, to ensure the craft was safe, Lucy had persuaded him to let her and her friends try it out themselves.

"Well, what do you think?"

The young rabbits stared in puzzlement at the strange craft, not knowing what to make of it. All of them knew how humans built these strange contraptions, or _hrududil_ as they called them, for travelling, whether on land, water or air, yet the concept was still quite difficult to grasp. Then, Little Threar, the smartest in the group, spoke up.

"It's a…a _s-sled_, isn't?" he said, stressing the pronunciation of the alien word, "A hrududu for travelling on ice and snow," he explained, "I remember Uncle Alan talking about them in his stories of the old itlel-world…"

"Can't see much use for it," scoffed Primrose, defensive of her pride as a rabbit, "With Bigwig's training, we're all fast as El-ahrairah. What would we need a hrududu for?" The others however looked excited at the idea of riding on a real hrududu. Together, they got to work, setting up the mast and sail, and soon had the sled ready for its first trial run. As the sled was too small for all of them, so Lucy chose the volunteering Sandwort, Little Threar, and, surprisingly, Primrose, for the first go.

"Cast off!"

The rest of the rabbits released the mooring lines and the sled was sent racing downhill, towards the foot of the Down and out onto the frozen meadow beyond. Manning the pulley that controlled the spar of the sail with one hand and the rudder with the other, Lucy stirred the craft into the wind, picking up speed. The handling felt surprisingly easier than she had expected, even for a beginner, and she was quickly getting the hang of it.

Pretty soon, they were having the time of their lives, going around in circles on the frozen meadow, like skaters on an ice rink. With poor Primrose clinging to her seat, screaming in terror every time Lucy did a twist, while Little Threar sat back, enjoying the ride on Lucy's lap and the daredevil Sandwort urging them to go faster, and with the rest of their friends cheering them on from afar, another day of fun wore on…

From his lab window, Alan watched Lucy and her friends having their fun as promised. His workspace, built inside one of the outhouses of the compound, was his personal little domain, fitted with all the scientific conveniences for carrying out his private pursuits.

Lined with old stainless-steel tables taken from the HAB's mess hall, serving as worktables, amidst cluttered cabinets, shelves, packing crates, barrels and other containers, Alan had built himself an elaborate, makeshift laboratory, divided into different sections: One corner was dedicated to food processing, with a large stove for boiling water for blanching, containers of salt, sugar, vinegar and alcohol which the colonists used as their key food preservatives, without the need for refrigeration, as well as several shelves stacked with recycled old jars, bottles and cans, sparkling clean from their recent wash, where they stored their winter supplies. In another corner was a still, fashioned out of old glass containers and hoses, from where they got their methanol and brandy from, as well as several fermentation kettles, with which Alan made his own homemade beer.

The rest of the lab was entirely dedicated to scientific research; a cabinet housing a stock of different chemicals he had scavenged, or otherwise made himself, among other lab supplies, and a massive worktable strewn with beakers, test tubes and even a microscope, where he'd synthesize some new formula, examine a specimen sample, and even teach Lucy basic science. A closed door led to an adjacent room, which was the machine shop, Derek's domain. And there was something else too…

Bending down, he inserted a key into the lock of a trapdoor built into the floorboards and opened it up, revealing a hidden compartment beneath, where a sealed, armoured briefcase, a camcorder, and a stash of papers lay hidden. This was one of the colony's closest guarded secrets – a secret which Alan had only shared fully, aside from his family, with the five rabbits that had come back with him to the 21st century: Hazel-rah, Bigwig, Fiver, Pipkin and Hawkbit. That secret was the long-lost legacy of mankind, left behind by a dying Dr Drake, just before the dawn of the dark age of Hemlock – the time in history when Man had lost his dominance on the Earth forever and the planet of the rabbits had began.

Now, almost eight centuries on, the legacy of mankind still remained a mystery. Civilisation was gone, destroyed in the asteroid Apocalypse of 2029; most of human society had also perished in the aftermath; but a few groups of pre-selected survivors had managed to take refuge underground, taking all of humanity's salvaged legacy, including art, records of knowledge, and genetic samples of the old biosphere with them for safekeeping, in hopes of rebuilding again someday. Hemlock's purge of the human race had ruined any chance of that ever transpiring; but the legacy itself had escaped his war of conquest, and apparently still remained hidden away out there somewhere.

Hemlock and his descendants had also known about the lost legacy and, for generations, sought to find it, in their endless quest for ultimate power and control over the planet. The arrival of Alan's group – namely Robbins - into this world had initially seemed like man's darkest secrets were destined to end up in the wrong hands after all, tipping the balance of power in favour of darkness and warfare forever, until Woundwort's defeat and the collapse of Efrafa had eliminated that grim prospect.

Over the years, Alan and his people had introduced many of the good things man had achieved to their rabbit friends, including farming, herbal medicine, use of tools and weapons, reading and writing, among other skills, greatly improving their lives. But that still wasn't good enough. With regards to _themselves_, they had done reasonably well; but what use was that if humanity would ultimately fade back into oblivion? Five human beings, no matter how resourceful, could not hope to rebuild an entire civilisation from scratch, which their rabbit friends might then continue on in the future. Simply put, they sought to find mankind's lost legacy.

Spreading out a geographic world atlas on his desk, Alan turned to the briefcase. Inside, were a dozen hand-written journals left behind by the same scientist whose work had made this beautiful world possible: Dr Cole Drake, Alan's old colleague and the last human of the Old World, who had watched his creation being born and then spreading out of control. Mankind had brought about its own destruction… But thanks to Alan's efforts of teaching his fellow colonists how to live in harmony with nature, both humans and intelligent rabbits had finally learned to coexist in peace, mending the breach between their species that Hemlock had started.

The journals detailed all the events brought about by Drake's experiments, including the rise of the Four Brothers, Hemlock waging war against the last remnants humanity, and eventually destroying it. From what Alan had been able to determine through his study of the journals, Drake, realising that mankind was doomed, had ordered all of humanity's treasures be shipped to secret safe havens around the world, where Hemlock couldn't seize them or destroy them.

Ever since discovering the journals on his colleague's mummified corpse, Alan spent hours every day burrowing through them. Unfortunately, Drake, no doubt fearing his journal might be found by the wrong person, had been real careful not to record the exact locations of any of those safe havens, or Crypts of Civilisation as he referred to them in his journals, leaving behind no useful leads as to where the legacy might be. The only thing Alan knew was that they were somewhere overseas, to 'the four corners of the earth', as one of the journal entries put it. In other words, they could be anywhere. The ultimate treasure hunt in history with no map to point the way, to put it mild.

The camcorder, which contained a copy of the video log from the derelict HAB, offered no useful leads on the Crypts either, only the history of Earth's destruction, the rise of the Four Brothers and the fall of mankind, told by England's last Prime Minister, the HAB's base commander, Dr Drake, and even El-ahrairah himself. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

After a while of playing the video log over and over again, cross-checking it with the journal entries, as he often did, hoping to find new clue, but without success, he decided to leave it for the day. This never-ending search for the lost legacy of humanity could wait another day; right now, he should focus on more pleasant things, like preparing to enjoy the festivities with his friends and family. Life couldn't get any better as it was…for the moment at least.

**Author's note:** Finally, we pick up again in the future. I actually toyed with many drafts on what Watership Down might look like after four years; in the original draft, Alan was the one with the heart condition and would only be a minor character who would die off early in the story; another draft had Lucy being the only human survivor left and living on her own with the rabbits. Finally, I decided to go with the traditional approach and bring back all the surviving characters from the first story, along with the latest generation. Enjoy and please review!

**Happy Frith's Eve!**


	28. Chapter 28 A Call for Help

Onboard the hijacked transport plane, the gang of now liberated military convicts was ready to pull out. Down in the hold, several of the men were strapping parachutes to the plane's cargo of military supplies and equipment, originally meant for the prison barracks on the Isle of Wight, and dumping it overboard; more parachutes and thermal uniforms were distributed around, as the men prepared to bail out.

Up in the cockpit, co-pilot-turned-captain Travis had successfully flown the plane through the time warp safely, following Crowley's plane, heading for the designated bail-out site. Crowley's Lockheed had already gone in to land at the nearest favourite landing site; but the DC-10 was too massive to attempt a landing in this futuristic wilderness, so Travis had instead resorted to taking them round in circles, while the crew and cargo parachuted to safety.

Holding level altitude at 10,000ft at airspeed 150 knots, Travis turned to Hirsh, "We're ready, sir. You can lower the tail ramp." Nodding to his partner, Hirsh gave the order over the intercom. In the tail cone, the ramp was depressurised and lowered. Ice-cold wind swept through the cabin, as the fugitives took their first breath of the future world's air. Below, the ground seemed but an endless stretch of darkness against the night sky, almost as if they were flying over the ocean. Although the men had been hurryingly brought up to speed on their 'unusual' assignment, the full details of which would be explained later, this sudden shift from day to night, as well as this inexplicable absence of life on the ground was enough to stir up quite some confusion among the convicts.

The supplies were dropped in an orderly manner, to be retrieved later on the ground: cases and boxes, all tagged with glowsticks so they could be traced in the dark, fell from the sky like rain, their mini-chutes deploying automatically in the fall like red mushrooms sprouting in mid-air. Soon, the hold was empty, leaving only the men to follow. The convicts, donning the service vests and utility belts they had taken off the bodies of their murdered guards, and armed to the teeth with the weapons they had seized from the plane's arms chest, resembled Green Beret paratroopers on a mission – a mission of conquest and destruction.

One by one, Crowley's mercenaries bailed out, to rendezvous with their new leader on the ground, and lay claim on the new world. Hirsh reluctantly donned his own parachute, preparing to follow the last of his fellow fugitives out; although he knew it was too late to turn back anymore, he still wasn't sure of the wisdom of letting himself be sold out to one of the world's leading criminals, who might ultimately decide he didn't need him anymore... Deciding that having any second thoughts now would do him no good, he followed the last of the men out through the ramp, and jumped.

Up in the cockpit, Travis was the last man still onboard, not counting the corpses in the rear cabin, including his own colleague's in the seat beside him. Jamming the controls on autopilot, locking the rudder in a slow turn, which would keep the plane flying around in a big circle until she ran out of fuel and crashed, Travis grabbed the last parachute and left the cockpit, heading for the ramp – but he never made it there.

Suddenly, without warning, a gunshot rang out over the wind blowing through the depressurised cabin. Travis never knew what hit him as the bullet found its mark in his turned back, blowing his spine apart at the base of the neck. His parachute pack slipped from his fingers and disappeared over the edge of the open ramp, as the wind swept it overboard without its owner.

As one more dead man hit the floor, another living and breathing one, but only barely, stood up. Major Haywood, who had taken a couple of bullets, but survived the massacre by assuming a dead stance on the floor between the seats, had recovered in time to retrieve his weapon and shoot the second of the three conspirators in the escape dead, but too late to stop the rest of his prisoners from getting away.

With blood leaking freely from gaping bullet wounds, dripping all over the floor in his wake, the wounded Haywood staggered up to the cockpit. A brief glance of the main cabin, filled with bloodied corpses and discarded prisoner restraints, confirmed all his colleagues were dead and that their prisoners, led by that traitorous turncoat Hirsh no doubt, had escaped. Up in the cockpit, he was confronted by the dead body of Captain Gallagher, realizing he was all alone up here. He cursed himself for shooting that scoundrel Travis not a moment ago; now he was trapped 10,000 feet above the earth, without a pilot or a parachute and with no idea of how to fly a plane. And meanwhile, there were a hundred murderous convicts on the loose down there with guns. He had to get word out to the authorities and fast!

Strapping himself into Travis' empty seat, the dying Haywood, only minutes from death but still managing to stay conscious thanks to the massive adrenaline rush pumping through his veins, turned his attention to his new, impossible mission: survival. Taking the headset off of Gallagher's bullet-penetrated skull, he tried the radio. It was silent. Where was that bloody RAF flight controller?

"Hallo? This is Major Haywood, RM, calling from Flight 911," he called in a raspy voice, ignoring the droplets of blood flying from his mouth due to a punctured lung, "We've had a security breach...plane hijacked...all marshals and flight crew dead...prisoners escaped by parachute...I need help..." But there was no answer, not even static. Thinking hard, he could vaguely remember reading somewhere that pilots pressed a mike button, or whatever it was called, to talk to the ground – but _which_ button?

He tried throwing a few switches on the console, but nothing happened, other than a few insignificant beeps and some of the dials changing colour. He tried pulling back on the stick; it felt stiff in his grip, refusing to budge. The autopilot, which Travis had left engaged, was still in control, automatically keeping the aircraft locked on its set course and altitude. How did you turn that damn thing off? Unbeknownst to Haywood, both the mike button and autopilot override switch were right at his fingertips, mounted on the control stick – but he didn't know it. For the first time in his life of heroic accomplishments, Major Heywood was fighting a losing battle.

As he continued hopelessly playing with the flight instruments, trying to figure out what was what, Haywood felt himself start growing light-headed. Even the burning pain of his wounds was lessening. A layman in his boots might have actually welcomed that relaxing sensation; but Haywood's professional training told him this was death by blood loss creeping up on him. Sure enough, feeling the bullet wound in his abdomen, he realised he was soaked in his own blood; the bullet had ruptured his spleen, causing severe haemorrhage. And even all the adrenaline in the world isn't enough to keep a man from going into shock.

Soon, his vision went foggy; the cockpit swam all around him, as everything faded away into a peaceful, everlasting darkness, which was the end... Outside, the ghost plane continued flying straight and level on autopilot, carrying a dozen dead men on their final flight to eternity...

Sam opened her eyes to a scene of total catastrophe; she was on the ground, amidst the smashed-up plywood fuselage of the motor glider. She felt dazed and confused, with a funny iron taste in her mouth. The last thing she could remember was that other plane appearing out of nowhere, strafing them and causing the glider to spin out of control, before the warp had sucked them into the void – the crippled glider had come out the other side, tumbling down into the trees and then nothing... Had they done it? Had they made it into the _future_?

Removing her cracked goggles, she saw the glider had, by the sheerest luck, come down at a more-or-less horizontal angle; the trees had cushioned the fall somewhat, leaving her battered but still alive. The glider however, was pretty well trashed; the port wing had been snapped off at midsection and missing; the starboard one remained attached, but severely buckled from clipping the trees in the crash; only the tail and motor appeared mostly undamaged. The canopy above her head was gone, torn away completely, leaving her exposed to the bitter cold of the futuristic winter.

The crash site was a snow-covered clearing on an unfamiliar forest floor, beneath a ceiling of thick trees. It was night and a blizzard was slowly kicking up. Of course, the world doesn't suddenly shift from day to night, much less from summer to winter... There was no further doubt that the future world was indeed very real, just like Dr Johnson had written in his account. But this was not the time for popping open the champagne, as she slowly realised, what had started off as a bad day, had only gotten a lot worse.

As the initial shock of the crash wore off, Sam was struck by a new feeling: pain. As she tried to stand and climb out of the wreckage, she felt a burst of red-hot pain on her left thigh. Looking down, she saw a large wooden splinter, crimson with her own blood, protruding from an open wound on her leg, fixing her to the fuselage. The gory sight and the pain nearly made her pass out again, but she somehow managed to get a grip on herself. She couldn't give up now! Then, she suddenly remembered Stonecrop.

"Stonecrop?" she called, panting from the pain, "Stonecrop, are you all right? Answer me!" The back seat was empty; Stonecrop had been blown out, it seemed, when the canopy had been ripped off. But then, did this mean...? _No_, thought Sam, _He has a parachute; he must have made it down safely._ Taking comfort in that reassuring thought, she turned to her own troubles.

She tried pulling out the protruding splinter, but her efforts were only rewarded with excruciating pain. She wasn't going anywhere. Turning to her instrument panel, she was relieved to see one of the two batteries was still functioning, keeping the radio working. Using one hand to keep pressure on the wound, she hit the mike button with the other.

"Hallo, Mr Santon? Dr Drake? Are you still there? The glider's down! Repeat, I've crashed and I'm injured bad! Stonecrop's also lost... Hallo...?" But then she remembered she was now in the future, so logically Drake and Santon were no longer on the air.

Tuning to the international distress frequency used by private pilots, which Mike McEwen had advised her to use in such an emergency, and on the assumption that, if Johnson's colony had a working radio, they'd be using it too, she tried again.

"Hallo, can anybody hear me? Please, I need help! Is anybody out there...?"

On Watership Down, the Honeycomb was buzzing with laughter and chatter, as the two-species colony prepared to celebrate Frith's Eve at midnight. Baskets of freshly-picked flayrah, courtesy of Alan's greenhouse, and other treats for the feast lay in the centre of the main chamber, like an elaborate buffet.

Pipkin, Lucy and the other youngsters moved to and fro, putting up the last of the decorations in the form of bits of holly, ivy and yew – the sacred plants which Frith had blessed to stay green all winter as per His promise to always return in the spring -, turning the Honeycomb into an underground jungle. While the children tended to their chores, the adults went about their own business.

While the does brought along the flayrah from the greenhouse, the humans brought steaming dishes of delectables, fit for a king, to suit their own diet: a giant roasted owl with acorn-and-blackberry stuffing, badger chops and walnut sauce, fox-liver-pâté salad, and barbecued rat ribs with honey with herb seasoning. The rabbits' natural enemies ironically served up on a platter, so to speak, all part of the futuristic British cuisine, as the colony often called it. And, of course, there were the beverages, produce of the Watership Down winery: apple brandy, honeyed wine and carrot beer. Thanks to the ancient human art of distilling and brewing, the rabbits of Watership Down celebrated every Frith's Eve in godly luxury.

"All right, this is the last one, Deke," said Alan, setting down a large cask of his special flavoured beer, which he had been keeping in storage for six months now to let the fermentation run its course. Beside him, Derek Shaw passed out tankards, while another short, dark-skinned man, Hotdog opened up a box of home-made cigars.

Derek Shaw and Hotdog Boone were Alan's oldest childhood friends. Derek, a strapping, ginger-haired Irishman, originally an engineering professor, was the colony's chief engineer and Lucy godfather. The best in his field, he was in charge of all the mechanical and technological challenges of the colony. His fellow colonists were in debt to him for providing them with some of the comforts of modern civilisation, including electricity, plumbing, radio, among other advances. Hotdog, an ex-conman and smuggler of African-Scottish descent, and a last minute recruit on the colonists' group, had originally been their pilot, only to be grounded shortly after their arrival, when their plane had been wrecked, reducing him to a handyman.

"All right, time to propose a toast," said Alan, filling up tankards of the mouth-watering frothy brew and passing them around to his fellow colonists (excluding Lucy, who was still underage and thus not allowed to drink, much to her dismay), and even to some of the rabbits, who had learned how to drink using straws, "Everyone served...?" Then he suddenly realised he had one spare tankard left, "Hang on, where's Josie?"

"She said she was feeling tired and wanted to lie down for a bit," said Derek absent-mindedly, accepting a cigar from Hotdog, impatient for the feast to begin, starting off with the customary speech the colony's 'elders' – Alan, Hazel-rah and Hyzenthlay – made on every Frith's Eve, followed by food and entertainment, "I suggest you go get her, Al, or else we'll be eating air by the time those two tubs of lard are finished," he added, gesturing at Silver and Strawberry, the champion eaters of Watership Down, already stuffing themselves with chow from the buffet behind everyone's back, only to be angrily shooed away by Vilthuril.

Alan, however, was too preoccupied to laugh at the sight of Silver and Strawberry being furiously reprimanded by the little doe for their lack of manners, her fiery temper being so unlike her usually timid personality, thinking about Josie. It was the same story on every New Year's Eve; while everyone else rejoiced, she was the last person eager to join in the festivities, instead choosing to miss it. It so happened, this particular time of the year coincided with one the worst events of her life. Deciding he ought to at least try and cheer her up, he turned to Derek.

"Tell Hazel to start the speech without me – Bigwig can fill in for me. I'm going to check on Josie." Setting aside his tankard and putting on his coat, he hurried out of the Honeycomb, across the Down towards the lodge. The house was dark, all the lanterns having been moved to the warren for the feast, save for a single candle burning in one of the upstairs bedrooms. This was the guest room - an extra bedroom, which Josie had had set up for her son years ago, containing some of his personal possessions and those of his late father's, as if expecting him to come back to her someday. This room also served as Josie's place of recluse on every Frith's Eve – the anniversary of when her son went missing.

Over the last four years, the colonists had sent out countless of search parties, even enlisting the help of Vleflain's – originally Efrafa's – professional Wide Patrols, but had always come up with nothing. Young Jamie McEwen had finally been presumed dead, evidently having run afoul of the humanoids at Cowslip's Warren, while on his escapade to find his missing father James – now resting in peace in the colonists' graveyard. But, without a body to bury alongside her husband's, there was no peace for Josie, who refused to give up hope.

Even after the Wide Patrols had given up the search, she would spend hours on end on the radio they had set up in an attempt to make contact with other possible groups of survivors out there, listening on all frequencies for any sighs of transmissions from her son's glider. Finally, she had succumbed to depression, which she only managed to cope with by keeping herself preoccupied with her work as the colony's physician, and not talking about it – but on Frith's Eve, the resurfacing memories were simply too much for her.

Josie was there all right, lying on the bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling, her hand clutching a framed picture of her dead family, resting over her heart. Alan knocked and, without waiting for an answer, entered. Josie turned to stare at him, "Look, Alan, we go through this every year, so just leave me alone..."

"Josie, you have to give up this habit," said Alan gently, "You're only causing yourself more needless pain. We've done – _you_'ve done – everything possible to find your son. I think it's about time you did yourself a favour and leave his memory in peace..."

"How can I let things be, Alan, when my own son is still missing...because of _my_ carelessness?" exclaimed Josie incredulously, wiping a tear from her eyes; although Alan admired how she always managed to hold herself together, even in the worst of times, he could tell, from bitter experience, that she was experiencing horrible mental anguish. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he tried to comfort her.

"Josie, you know that's not true. It was that crummy, good-for-nothing scoundrel Shelton's fault..." Josie only stifled a sob. Alan sighed, "Look, honey, when Mary died, I damn nearly let myself descend into madness from guilt. Half the time, I had a good mind to blow my brains out or jump in front of a moving train, and end it all – hell, I almost beat that drunken greaser to death for taking a jibe at me, that night on Baker Street, remember?" The memory of the eventful night, when Derek had approached him with the fabricated job contract Robbins has slipped him, to lure them both into a trap, which would incidentally start the chain of events which had brought them to this new world, was still a popular topic over dinner.

"But thinking back on those days now," he continued, "I realise I was nothing but a fool for letting myself drown in my own sorrows, and guess what, I no longer feel the least guilty anymore, because I know I'm not to blame. Likewise, _you_ are not to blame for what happened to your son..."

"Only you had your chance to avenge your wife's death, and you got your daughter back in the end," Josie retorted, "How can I live with myself if I give up on Jamie now? He's still out there, all alone, probably thinking he's the last human being on earth..." Alan wanted to point out that that it was impossible for her son to still be alive after all this time and that the best she could do was accept facts and move on, but he never got the chance to when, suddenly, a sound from downstairs caught them both by surprise: a female voice calling over the radio, which they had left on to charge overnight.

"...Help...! Does anyone hear me...?"

In an instant, both Alan and Josie were dashing downstairs to the chart room – an office of sorts, adjacent to the lounge, which the colonists used as their centre of operations, so to speak, with a working radio, chart table, the colony's files, and other surveyor's instruments. A rickety-looking radio, cannibalised from the cockpit of their plane and jury-rigged to run off a rechargeable car battery, stood atop a desk in a corner. The device, normally used to monitor the walkie-talkies the colonists carried on their expeditions, was crackling with static, confirming the incoming transmission.

_Who could it be?_ Thought Alan, _Everyone is down in the Honeycomb and all the walkie-talkies are stored away. Could this be another of Lucy's little pranks? Frith help me, if it is, I'll give her the tickling of her life..._ However, as it turned out, it was far from being a prank, as Alan put on the headset and tuned in, trying to clear up the sound of the strange voice.

"This is Watership Down Base, come in?"

"_Oh, thank goodness!"_ came the reply. The voice was unfamiliar to Alan, feminine, with a Welsh accent, _"I've crashed and I'm trapped! I was searching for Dr Alan Johnson's colony of rabbits on Watership Down... Are you Dr Johnson...?"_ That last remark left Alan rooted to his chair in surprise; hearing the sound of a strange voice in a world where there were no other human beings around, save for their little colony, was a big enough surprise alone, but to hear that someone out there was in fact out _looking_ for him was unbelievable...and very suspicious. How could have someone possibly have found their way into the future? How did this stranger know he was living here? And _who_ was it?

Pulling himself together, he answered back, "Yes, this is Dr Johnson. Who is this? To whom am I speaking?"

"_My name is Sam F-..."_ the voice replied, abruptly cutting off in mid-sentence, which Alan figured was probably due to a break in the transmission, _"Please, I need help! I'm trapped and bleeding badly...!"_

"All right, Sam, calm down, I hear you," said Alan, realizing the emergency at hand, which now took priority over any personal questions he might have. Reaching to a tape recorder hooked up to the radio, and pressing it to record the transmission, in case they lost contact, he gestured to Josie to go get the others in here fast.

"How many of you are there?"

"_Two of us – me and my friend Stonecrop. He fell from the glider before we crashed..."_ Alan raised an eyebrow_. Stonecrop?_ he thought in amazement, _But that's a rabbit's name... How the bloody hell could a 21__st__ century human being happen to have a talking rabbit...?_ Setting aside another question that would need answering later on, he jotted down the two names in a notebook.

"All right, can you give me your position, over?"

"_I...I don't know, my GPS is down,"_ answered Sam's stammering voice, barely audible over the static, _"I'm surrounded by thick forest; I can see the edge of a large frozen lake just up ahead..."_ At that minute, the voice dissolved into static and was gone.

"Hello, Sam? Sam, come in...!" Alan tried fiddling with the bands, hoping to pick her up on another frequency, but there was nothing. Sam's radio had obviously died – and leaving them with only a vague idea of where to look for her. So much for an easy night.

Five minutes later, the entire colony of Watership Down – rabbits and humans alike – had crowded inside the chart room, as Alan played the recording of the transmission. Muttering and exclamations of amazement came from everyone's lips, as the news that another time traveller had dropped into their midst spread like wildfire. Some rabbits, including Pipkin and the children were excited at the news; but a few of the adults, most notably Bigwig, had reason to be suspicious.

"Something's off about this, Hazel-rah," he said with a frown, "Our world was supposed to be kept a secret from the Old World – we were never supposed to expect more time travellers arriving here. This stranger apparently knows quite a lot; she definitely knows about Alan and, by the sound of it, about us too... What if she's an enemy spy?"

"All this talking will get us nowhere, Bigwig," said Hazel firmly, "There's someone out there in trouble and it's our job to help them. Get your Owsla ready to move at once."

"You heard your Chief, chaps," said Bigwig without further argument. After all, orders were orders. "Frith's Eve leave is cut short. Owsla, line up outside and prepare for briefing on a rescue mission. On the double!"

"Go out in this weather, and at night?" groaned Hawkbit incredulously, staring at the snow falling outside, "Frith of Inle, Bigwig, this is Frith's Eve! You want us to go gallivanting around the countryside, looking for some stranger, who, for all we know might already be dead..."

"Now!" barked Bigwig, "And if I hear any further arguments, Hawkbit, I'll send you to carry out this mission solo!" Although Bigwig was by no means a cruel or brutal rabbit, at times he wouldn't hesitate to clamp down hard on his Owsla to keep them in line, Hawkbit's special-needs case of sarcasm and indiscipline being the most frequent of all – in other words, when duty called for it, he was a bully.

As a sulking Hawkbit scurried away, Bigwig turned to Hazel, "So, where are we supposed to look for this...stranger in distress?" The Chief Rabbit of Watership Down turned to Alan, who was already studying the large, hand-drawn map of the Meadows of Fenlo spread out onto the chart table – their homeland, a chunk of the former edge of northern Hampshire and southern Berkshire, whose borders ended at the River Test in the south, Wiltshire in the west and Surrey in the east, hardly exceeded the circumference of the long-gone former capitol of the United Kingdom - this tiny area was the only known region on the entire globe recorded on the map, with proper names and places.

Mostly due to their lack of means of transport for long-range exploring, save only for a hot-air balloon they had, the colonists hadn't been able to penetrate far into the uncharted, turned-wild territory, which had once been England and the rest of the outside world. But this little region, which they and their neighbours controlled using the intel brought back by Wide Patrols, as well as their own aerial surveillances, the humans had properly mapped, naming every nook and cranny in their territory, greatly helping coordinate searches such as this.

"She said she's on the edge of a large, frozen lake, surrounded by thick forest," said Alan, while Derek and Hotdog examined the map grid by grid, looking for a place which fitted that hazy description. The surrounding area in the vicinity of the Down had no lakes, so they could rule their own neighbourhood out; to the north, there was the Enborne River, which never froze over winter, and beyond that nothing but the abandoned ruins of Sandleford; to the east was the warren of Vleflain, surrounded by thick woodland but no lakes, and in any case, their Owsla, which remained active throughout winter, would have found any stranger-dropped-out-of-the-sky in an instant and turned her over to their ambassador there. Finally, they struck gold as they turned to examine the western border.

"The only likely place is that lake in the heart of Lord Brock's Wood," said Derek, slamming down his finger on a lake surrounded by a thick forest, named after the namesake mythical character of the Watership Down story, on the south-western edge of the map. This area, like several others on the map, was marked in red barber-pole, declaring it a restricted, dangerous zone. And for good reason too.

"Lord Brock's Wood?" gasped Holly, "That's homba territory! At this season, all the elil out there are starving and on their hunting grounds day and night. Nobody dares venture into that forest in winter - even the Wide Patrols of Vleflain stay well clear of it. The foxes would be upon you like rain if they get as much as a whiff of your scent...!"

"All the more reason to get this show on the road immediately," said Alan calmly, loading an old elephant gun he kept over the mantelpiece which had once belonged to his late father – the only weapon powerful enough to take down an eli that size with one shot. Derek, however, had another idea up his sleeve, as he gestured at them to follow him down to his workshop.

In direct contrast to Alan's reasonably tidy lab, Derek's workplace was a junk house; worktables and shelves strewn with worn-out tools and the rickety bodies of semi-complete inventions the engineer was working on, all fashioned out of components cannibalised from the husks of old machines and other pieces of junk collected from the old HAB, and other easy-to-acquire materials. Cardboard boxes full of unused bits of scrap of every description were stacked in piles around the workshop, their contents waiting to be used. Although a pigsty at first glance, the colonists had great respect for this place, where Derek 're-invented' some of the long-forgotten technology of the vanished human world.

Sitting there, under a strip of canvas, was Derek's latest greatest masterpiece: a motortrike, as it was called in the trade, fashioned out of aircraft wheels, some old I-beams, electric wiring and a jury-rigged old pickup-truck's engine, modified to run on wood-gas. There were three seats; one for the driver, two for the passengers, plus an open cargo enclosure in the back, housing a mounted wood gasifier fashioned out of two old oil drums, and for storing equipment and supplies. This awkward three-wheeled vehicle was designed as part of a planned expedition down to the coast next summer – but now, it would be put to use, still untested, to transport a casualty on a stretcher. Their 'ambulance' was ready to go.

They had just finished topping up the motortrike gasifier's inner container with dry wood scraps cut from old cargo pallets and crate planking, to produce the combustible mixture of hydrogen, carbon monoxide and methane known as wood gas which was, in turn, fed into the carburettor through a fire-insulated hose, to power the engine, when Lucy came running in, "Dad, you've got to see this!"

Thinking that perhaps she had spotted a signal flare or something that may narrow down the search, the adults came running out. Lucy was pointing skywards at something, which was not a signal flare - instead, it was just what was needed to top up the number of unexpected surprises for one night: another plane. Not a crashed one, like Sam claimed hers was, but a flying one, high up in the sky. And it wasn't the only thing up there; although Alan had suspected they'd see it the minute he had heard Sam's transmission, it was still quite a surprise seeing the Aurora-like warp reappear in the sky to the west after four years.

"Prince Rainbow had returned again!" gasped Silver, referring to this rare phenomenon of an opening time portal that had once interconnected the distant time periods of 2012 and 2791, which the rabbits interpreted as a godly sign from the mythical Prince Rainbow, "Do you think he's sent us another Messenger?"

"Well, well, Alan, it looks like Prince Rainbow has decided to have you replaced as our Protector," said Bluebell, not missing the opportunity to crack a lame joke. The others ignored his humour however, as the idea of more groups of time travellers having arrived into their world through the warp also crossed their minds.

"It a jetliner of some kind," said Derek, observing the plane through his binoculars. Although they couldn't see it, they could still make out the blinking navigation lights on the wings and tail, and hear the distant roaring of the engines, as it flew straight and level overhead, apparently undamaged from the violent passing through the warp. But as to the condition of those onboard the aircraft, that was a different story.

"I'm not picking up anything on the radio," called Hotdog from the house, "Haven't they noticed their guidance systems are down?" Looking more closely, they saw the mysterious plane was slowly turning around, seemingly to do another fly-by. So why weren't the pilots answering? None of them had the slightest idea that, while their voices could be heard over the derelict DC-10's radio, the plane's remaining passengers and crew were all corpses, unable to answer them, much less that their murderers had parachuted to freedom not too far away. In the cockpit, a caution light had started buzzing on the instrument panel, warning no one in particular that the fuel was beginning to run low, and that the plane would soon reach the end of its journey. But the colonists on the ground had no way of knowing any of that.

"No time to worry about that now," said Alan, "We have a job to do. Let's go."

Since the motortrike was too small for the whole Owsla, Bigwig recruited Dandelion, Hawkbit (much to his dismay) and Fiver for this little escapade; Alan was the driver and Derek the vehicle engineer; Hazel also insisted on accompanying them as he often did, despite a traditional Chief Rabbit's custom of sending his Captain of Owsla out on the field while he stayed back at the warren. But Hazel was much more than just a Chief Rabbit to his friends.

With the wood gasifier piping hot, Derek turned on the hose valve, pumping wood-gas into the carburettor, preparing for ignition. Seated in the driver's seat – formerly a pilot's seat from their Cessna, with a control stick from the same plane for a steering wheel -, Alan pulled hard on the retractable cord of the engine's recoil starter; after a few tries, the engine came to life, spluttering and backfiring from the gas, rather than liquid, fuel intake, but working all the same. That left them with only one last thing to worry about.

Although the weather was fine at the moment, with only a mild snowfall, a massive blizzard could be seen moving in from the north; within another hour, maybe two, Alan reckoned, it would hit their area, at which point travelling would be impossible. Time was short.

Derek and the others hurryingly loaded up the gear: a stretcher, first aid kit, space blankets, radio, flashlights, rope, weapons and snow chains for the wheels, and then they were good to go. Bigwig, Hazel, Fiver, Hawkbit, Dandelion and Derek hopped on and the motortrike sped off down the side of Watership Down, heading south, towards Lord Brock's Wood, to the rescue.

Back at the crash site, a desperate Sam, working by torchlight, finally gave up trying to get the radio to work. The battery had died and the last of the power was gone. Now she was all alone. With Stonecrop lost, perhaps killed, and with no way to communicate anymore, she felt more alone than any other human being had ever been. There was no way of knowing how long it would take Johnson to send a rescue to find her, if they sent one at all.

Meanwhile, she could feel her skewered leg slowly growing numb. She didn't know much about first aid, but knew this wasn't good; her leg was slowly dying from interrupted blood flow, cell by cell, as the first stages of necrosis started kicking in. That stake piercing her leg needed to come out.

Stuffing a gag in her mouth, Sam grasped her leg again with both hands. Taking a couple of deep breaths, bracing for it, she pulled hard with all her might, not realizing that this would only cause more harm than good. Over her own muffled screams of excruciating pain, as bad as having her leg amputated with a chain-saw, she felt the splinter slide out. She was free.

Before she could recover from the pain, however, she felt a wave of dizziness sweep over her. Looking down, she saw the wound was now bleeding grotesquely, making her feel about to pass out. Not realizing that only a trained medic or surgeon was supposed to remove alien bodies from a wound, by removing the splinter, she had opened up the wound, letting the blood escape freely and causing her to go into shock.

Realizing her mistake, she grabbed the best thing she could use as a tourniquet – the cord of her radio headset - and tightened it around her thigh, just above the wound. This seemed to help a little, but it didn't stop the bleeding altogether. Her already diminished strength was quickly failing her, making it impossible to hold the tourniquet in place for much longer. Meanwhile, the smell of fresh blood in the air was attracting another enemy, far worse than isolation, exposure, or bleeding.

Around the crash site, a pair of luminous yellow eyes had appeared in the darkness, moving noiselessly through the trees, several others following not too far behind; the elil were coming, approaching from all directions, following the scent of blood. If Sam had been conscious enough to see them, she would have freaked out at the realisation that she had crash-landed right in the middle of the elil's game trail, and that the dinner bell had been sounded. She was on the menu.

Finally, she felt herself sink into unconsciousness from blood loss. Meanwhile, two sides were at a race; Alan's rescue party, currently underway, and the hungry elil, getting closer with every passing minute. Only question was who'd get to the finish first?

**Author's note:** So sorry for the delay, folks, but I've been battling writer's block, among other problems. This chapter was meant to be an Easter present to my readers, so I hope you don't mind it being a week late. And PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!


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